


Secrets Are the Enemies of Passion

by SongstressTinyTeacup



Category: A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder - Lutvak/Freedman
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:18:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6816310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongstressTinyTeacup/pseuds/SongstressTinyTeacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uh-oh! Monty's been found out, but this time it's by one of the people he fears losing the most. Will they leave, forgive him, or let it be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Truth

The sun was shining over High Hurst Castle and birds were chirping in the lush trees that surrounded the grounds, and somewhere within the grand castle a servant was carefully placing a tray of tea and pastries on an old mahogany table, taking great care when setting out the china teacups and saucers.

In a whirl of deep purple a petite brunette appeared, smiling over the edge of her new book.

“Thank you Violet, this is lovely.” The brunette smiled brightly, accidentally startling the girl.

“Oh! I’m so sorry Countess Navarro, I didn’t hear you come in!” Violet quickly dropped into a low curtsey.

The Countess placed her hand on Violet’s shoulder once the girl rose.

“Please Violet, it’s quite alright. And I do seem to recall asking you to call me Phoebe.” The Countess chided playfully, offering a smile so dazzling it made the diamond ring on her left finger look dull.

Violet blanched, all color draining from her person as fear took over her body, what would happen if His Lordship found out she had been referring to The Countess by her Christian name?!

“Oh n-no, Your Ladyship, I’m afraid it would be improper! W-Will there be anything else, Your Ladyship?” Violet stuttered, keeping her eyes firmly cast on the floor.

“No, thank you Violet, just see to it that Mrs. Holland is shown in, then you may have the remainder of the day off.” The Countess replied, sitting down carefully on the chaise.

The door to the parlor swung open, and Miss Shingle gave her own curtsey to the Countess.

“No need Violet, Mrs. Lionel Holland.” Miss Shingle announced, releasing a flurry of pink into the parlor.

The flurry of blonde and pink twirled around the room, setting down her wrap and purse before settling on the chaise across from the Countess.

“Phoebe, darling!” Sibella smiled, giving the brunette a kiss on both cheeks, then waiting patiently for the brunette to return the exchange.

“How is it at the estate now that Lionel is out on business?” Phoebe inquired, smiling coyly as she prepared the blonde’s cup of tea.

Sibella smiled, blood red lips framing perfect white teeth.

“Absolute heaven! Of course, he’ll be back within the week to demand that I lose weight or that I invest in a tighter corset.” Sibella grimaced, a hand going to her already slim midsection as though she were in pain.

Phoebe frowned, Lionel was always trying to control Sibella in every way possible, going so far as to restrict her diet while she was at the estate or out with him on business, so Phoebe made a point to have the cook prepare all of Sibella’s favorites just to spite the fat old man.

Sibella noticed that Phoebe had gone quiet, and felt bad for worrying the brunette as she knows she often does.

“Is this your new book, Phoebe? I do so look forward to hearing you read pieces of it in the parlor after dinner tonight.” Sibella quickly changed the subject, hoping to spark the passion for literature that Phoebe had and make her forget all about Lionel’s personal vendetta against her weight.

The blonde woman picked up a worn leather tome without waiting for an answer, then flipped to a page, and read a few lines for herself just to get a feel for the novel, only to have her heart drop to her feet when she noticed Monty’s handwriting, and then realizing she had just read that Monty had been the cause of Henry D’ysquith’s (Phoebe’s dear brother) death.

Without pause, she looked at Phoebe, who had obviously not been paying attention, and decided it was only right that Phoebe have some sort of closure.

“What’s that?” Phoebe inquired, taking the tome from Sibella before the blonde could even respond, and then she carefully skimmed over the written lines, without warning Phoebe swooned, and Sibella found herself rushing to keep her steady as the brunette seemed to faint, then reawaken.

A shaky gasp, trembling hands closed the tome and flung it across the room without care.

“It can’t be true, can it Sibella? Monty can’t have murdered Henry, he adored him, right?” 

Sibella herself was at a loss for words, for she had never seen this side of Phoebe before, this was not the brazen young woman who showed up at the estate the night before Monty’s execution date and demanded Sibella help her. 

This woman seemed to resemble a child, asking questions they already knew the answer to but hoped to hear a different answer.

Phoebe’s eyes welled up with tears, her hands found each other and clasped together at her chest as she moved to the window to look out at the vast garden Monty had ordered be planted in Henry’s honor, then to the small shack where a portion of Henry’s beloved honeybee colony resided.

“Oh Henry, dear sweet Henry.” A shaky sob, her voice trembling with what Sibella could only fear were sobs of grief and pain.

Panicked, Sibella looked around the parlor and rushed to the tome, making sure it was closed into the drawer with a lock to prevent Monty from becoming convicted by any of the servants who might discover the tome unintentionally, then went to Phoebe’s side.

“Phoebe, darling, perhaps it’s a misunderstanding. Perhaps Monty felt as though Henry’s death was his fault, I mean Monty could hardly harm a fly!” Sibella tried to comfort the brunette, though she knew better, if Monty had written that he had murdered Henry, he had done just so.

Phoebe turned to Sibella, tears welled up in her eyes but she seemed to have no intention of allowing them to fall.

“A misunderstanding, Sibella? How could it be a misunderstanding, when he has written it down in his own hand! If he murdered Henry so uncaringly, and decided to marry me to keep me from ever finding out the truth then who’s to say that he couldn’t harm a fly? It makes sense now, that astounding year when every relative in front of Monty in the succession seemed to die suddenly without any explanation, and no one dared to bat an eye until Lord Adalbert’s death! If this was the reason why he was so jumpy that awful night at High Hurst, if this was the reason he married me, if this is the reason that he panicked before I ask him about you in the jail cell, then how can I deny it as the truth!” Phoebe cried out, desperation taking over her self-control.

Sibella could only stand in shock, as she had never thought that sweet Phoebe could raise her voice in such a way.

“And if what Monty wrote was true, if I were to have stood before him in the line of succession, if I were to have been the eldest of Henry and I, who’s to say he would have felt any sorrow when he inevitably murdered me!” Phoebe sobbed, the dam that seemed to be in front of her eyes finally breaking as she fled the room and left Sibella on her own in the parlor.

Of course after a moment of stunned silence Sibella sent for Miss Shingle, telling her that the brunette was not feeling well, and had asked not to be disturbed.

“Shall I send for your carriage, Mrs. Holland?” Miss Shingle inquired. 

“No, thank you, I think it would be best if I remained here to speak to Monty, the matter which I must speak to him about is of the upmost importance.” Sibella replied, watching as the portly maid nodded and bustled off.

Once Sibella was left all alone in the suddenly deathly quiet library, she sat back down on the chaise, and traced the pattern on the cloth napkins with her finger.

“Oh Monty, what have you done?” Sibella thought with a sigh.


	2. Exposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the short chapter this time! I wrote this in the midst of finals! The next chapter will be longer I promise!

Montague D’ysquith Navarro arrived back at High Hurst not long after Phoebe’s discovery, and upon entering the parlor he saw Sibella, looking out over the grounds with a vacant expression on her face.

Smiling to himself, he snuck up behind her and grasped her from the waist, effectively startling the woman for the millisecond it took Sibella to realize that only one man had ever held her like that.

“Monty,” she started, but was cut off by his lips capturing her own in a kiss.

It took all of Sibella’s self-control in that moment to pull away, it had been two weeks since she had seen him last and she was still getting used to sharing Monty with Phoebe. To give the poor man credit, he tried to split his time between the two of them equally so that neither woman felt neglected, but even within the walls of the castle the trio had to be careful, for fear of their secret getting out.

When Sibella finally managed enough resolve to pull back, Monty gave her a quizzical look.

“Have you seen Phoebe, Miss Shingle?” he inquired to the older servant, after a heavy moment of silence.

“Her ladyship is not feeling well and requested not to be disturbed, sir” The portly maid replied, bowing before her employer, then excusing herself to see to the matter of dinner.

Monty turned back to Sibella, now aware that something was going on.

Much to Monty’s surprise and horror, Sibella was holding the tome he had painstakingly written his memoirs in, and sliding one of her hair pins back in it’s place.

“Phoebe knows, and you need to go to her, make it right. After all the girl’s had quite a shock today, and I never knew she could have quite a temper, I daresay she’s far feistier than we ever originally gave her credit for.” Sibella stated, first grimly, then with a hint of amusement.

Monty could only nod his head, lord knows what Phoebe thought of him now!

Sibella decided to give him a chaste kiss, before picking up her belongings, handing the tome to Monty, and just before she exited the parlor, she stopped and turned halfway to face him.

“And if, per chance, that Phoebe won’t forgive you tonight, I’ll be in my room.” She reminded him, and just like that Monty was left alone.


	3. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a longer chapter to make up for what I couldn't write during finals! Enjoy!!

Monty suddenly felt nervous, standing outside the door to his own bedroom, the one he shared with Phoebe.

 

“What if she doesn’t forgive me? What if she decides to tell the authorities?” The nagging voice in the back of his mind chided.

Swallowing some air, he raised his hand and knocked.

Nothing.

He knocked again, and then he heard it.

After a moment of silence, waiting breathlessly outside the door, he heard a quiet sob.

Heart shattering, he took it upon himself to enter the room anyway, only to find Phoebe sitting with her back to the door, head bowed, and shoulders shaking with tears.

“Phoebe.” His voice squeaky and panicked.

The brunette stiffened, then rose, shoulders straightened and her head held high as she turned to face him, not bothering to wipe the tears from her flushed cheeks.

“I do believe I gave specific orders not to be disturbed, Montague.” Phoebe stated icily, looking at him with cold eyes through what few tears remained.

Monty winced, he was rarely ever called by his full name by the people he was close to, hearing the name from Phoebe’s lips felt wrong.

“Well, what was so important that you decided to ignore my orders?” Phoebe’s voice came again, sharply this time.

It was only then that Monty realized he had been staring.

Clearing his throat, he approached her slowly, and offered his hand, kneeling near her.

“S-Stay back!” Phoebe’s cold exterior seemed to melt away, replacing itself with the fear that had been bubbling just below the surface.

“Phoebe, please. You must understand, I would never harm you. I couldn’t. You must believe me.” He stated quietly, his heart aching more with every thought of her fearing him.

Phoebe straightened her back again, squaring her shoulders.

“And yet you have murdered eight members of my family. Your family. You killed the last remaining member of my immediate family.” She protested, giving a slight squeak when he moved closer.

“I regret it. Henry was a kind man, a good brother. But I cannot apologize for something that brought me closer to you. I beseech you, please do not despise me. Show me the woman I married.” Monty replied as Phoebe moved to the bed and sat down.

A thick silence fell over the room, and Monty stood up, preparing himself to leave the strong-willed brunette for the night.

“Kill Lionel Holland.” She blurted out suddenly, causing Monty to freeze in his place.

Surely he didn’t hear her correctly, surely he had misunderstood!

“What?” He inquired, seeing the brunette turn toward him again.

“If you wish to prove to me that you are incapable of harming me, you will kill Lionel Holland. He mistreats Sibella, puts her on severe diets and has her corset tightened to the point where it is unhealthy. If you love me as much as you love her, if you want to prove to me that you’ll do anything to keep us safe, you will find a way to end the man who goes by Lionel Holland.” Phoebe clarified, ensuring that Monty understood why she requested this.

He nodded to her, taking her hand and kissing it softly.

“Of course, anything for my two girls.” Monty promised.

And so two weeks later Monty held a large “hunt”, with several traps set in the path that Lionel Holland was to be assigned, having heard that the daft old man always rode ahead of his crew and did not take care in observing his surroundings.

Phoebe’s job was to keep all of the society ladies occupied, and then see to it that Sibella was taken care of once they returned with the body of Lionel Holland.

Everything seemed to work smoothly, as Sibella retired to the room Phoebe offered her to “grieve” in, and Phoebe stated aloud that she needed a moment in the gardens to wrap her head around such tragic news.

So far, so good.

It wasn’t until later, when the sun began to set over High Hurst Castle, that things started to be amiss.

Monty and Sibella began to worry, Phoebe had promised she wouldn’t leave the grounds of the castle, and no one had seen her since she retired to the garden, not even the crew of gardeners. The hunting parties had returned home shortly after the tragedy, causing Monty to sigh in relief, but this was only temporary.

The medical examiner had declared the death of Lionel Holland was an unfortunate hunting accident, and while Sibella had accepted the Countess’s offer of a private room to grieve, Monty knew very well that there would be no tears shed behind the closed doors.

Monty approached the room Sibella would be staying in from today on, and noticed Violet standing at the door, surely she would know of her Lady’s whereabouts.

Upon further questioning Monty had been told that Phoebe had not been seen since earlier that day, and that not too long ago Mrs. Holland had gone out to look for her, unattended.

Monty’s blood ran cold in his veins.

He hurriedly thanked and dismissed Violet to the remainder of the night, then rushed to the entrance of the castle where he summoned the guards, and prepared to send them out to search for the two women. Monty had just given the order when the two grand doors opened, and Sibella limped in supporting Phoebe, who was unconscious.

For a moment, Monty was convinced that his heart had stopped beating in his chest at the sight of his two lovers.

Sibella was limping, taking great care to keep the majority of her weight on her good foot, all the while trying to keep Phoebe upright, but his poor Phoebe looked deathly pale and battered.

Sibella caught his gaze, tears in her eyes as she gripped Phoebe as tightly as she could.

“Monty!” She whimpered, looking from the unconscious brunette in her arms back to the Earl, then back to the brunette.

Monty wasted no time, rushing to them and ordering one of his guards to help Mrs. Holland back to her room, and another to send for the doctor as quickly as they could as he swept Phoebe into his arms and ran with her to their bedroom as the guards jumped to action.

Laying Phoebe on the bed, Monty could finally see some of her injuries.

Large gashes marked areas where her corset had been sliced, her gown having been ripped apart by her attacker, and dark, angry bruises were developing all over her porcelain skin. Needless to say the sight of blood matting his beloved Phoebe’s braid nearly made him ill with worry.

From where he knelt at her bedside he grasped her hand, recoiling ever so slightly at the vague chill that accompanied it, kissed it, and gently rubbed his thumb over her petite knuckles.

“Phoebe, oh, my poor darling, Phoebe! What’s happened to you, who’s done this! Why did you leave the grounds when you expressly promised me that you’d not!” Monty’s voice was quiet, but frantic and trembling with all of the fear he was feeling.

As he waited for the doctor to arrive, his heart pounded in his chest, resembling a frantic bass drum in the heat of battle.

He glanced over at Phoebe once more, noting dried tears on her cheeks, and a slight cut on her lips as though she had bit down on them to keep quiet.

His heart shattered, never had he seen Phoebe look so defenseless, never had he seen her this worse. Not when Henry had died, not when he had been arrested, not the night before his sentencing, and not the night she had discovered his memoirs.

Of course Phoebe had been sad, of course she had mourned, and from what he had been told, she had spent the entire night before his sentencing convincing the investigators of his innocence, but never before had she been in this state.

Guilt immediately flooded his system when he noticed his Earl’s coronet firmly clasped in her right hand.

She had feared he had left something behind while setting the traps, and he had!

It was his fault. It was his fault that his poor Phoebe was in this situation, and it was his fault that Sibella had gotten injured, he ought to have been more careful!

Was one murder charge not enough for him? 

Did he wish to get caught by the authorities and leave his beloved girls in the harsh world all alone?

A knock on the door snapped Monty out of his worried haze.

The doctor entered the room, and told him that it would be best if he waited outside, or that he might want to check on Mrs. Holland, as the lady of the house was currently indisposed and unable to go herself.

Nodding, Monty had no other choice but to believe that the doctor would do all he could for Phoebe, but stationed Mary, one of Phoebe’s maids that had been brought over from Salisbury, to fetch him should anything take a turn for the worst.

As he approached the double doors to Sibella’s room, he heard the blonde scolding the maid who had been sent to watch over her.

Knocking twice, the maid answered the door, then moved aside to let him enter the room.

Monty dismissed her, and waited until the doors were closed before he sat on the bed next to Sibella, almost collapsing.

“How’s Phoebe?” Sibella inquired, her voice choked with tears, voice wavering as she spoke.

Monty looked over to see the blonde woman completely distraught.

“How is she, Monty? She isn’t… Monty, you must tell me that she isn’t!” Sibella sobbed, seeing the grim expression on his face.

Monty’s heart continued to hurt, all of this grief and worry had been his fault.

“No, truth be told I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I would like to know what happened after you left the castle.” Monty replied softly, shifting gently so that he could pull Sibella into his arms and hold her tightly, burying his face into her soft blonde hair.

Sibella took in another shaky breath.

“I went looking for Phoebe, and I found her handkerchief on the ground by the bee colony. I got worried about her so I continued to walk. I found her just past the edge of the forest around the castle, and when I saw the state she was in I had to get her back to you. In my panic, I tripped over a tree root and fell, which is why I’ve managed to sprain my ankle.” She managed to whisper.

Monty knew there was something else happening in Sibella’s mind, otherwise she would not be this distraught over a woman she had only known for a few months, but Monty also knew that she wouldn’t come right out and say what was wrong.

He attributed that to her pride, even as a child Sibella had been very protective of her pride.

Despite the circumstances, and the state of distress they were under, Monty and Sibella managed to fall into an uneasy sleep, both plagued with nightmares about Phoebe’s wellbeing.


	4. Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, so sorry y'all! I didn't mean to keep y'all waiting for almost a year, but college is a cruel and demanding mistress, that unfortunately for the drama majors, drains all free time and energy. But fear not! I have several chapters that I will be posting this week, starting with this one! So without further ado, kittens, here you go!

_The room was dark and cold, and from what Monty could see it appeared that the fire had gone out in the night._

_Chills took Monty’s body by storm, goosebumps rising from their normally dormant state, and his breath fogged the air despite the fact he was inside._

_It wasn’t until that moment, that Monty realized he wasn’t alone._

_Before him, stood his Mother, and Lionel Holland._

_“Mother? Mr. Holland? I don’t understand.” Monty’s voice seemed small in the midst of the large room._

_“Thought you’d done me in, eh Navarro? Of course, I’d have thought the same thing, been confident even. But none of that matters now.” Lionel sneered, touching the black coverings that shrouded the window, keeping the room dark._

_Monty felt his heart plummet, for those curtains were only put up when the castle was in mourning._

_Lionel caught sight of the Earl’s face, and laughed gruffly._

_“The great and powerful Ninth Earl couldn’t even protect his Countess. Stupid woman went out and got herself killed trying to cover up your foolish mistakes.” The revolting old man quipped._

_Monty dropped to his knees, withering under his mother’s disapproving gaze, as well as his own grief._

_“Here now, no use crying over the woman you married for power. As I seem to recall, you always had a certain affinity for my wife, though she’s long dead and buried too. You couldn’t protect your mistress either.” Lionel hissed, moving aside to show the Earl what his stupidity had caused._

_Behind Lionel and his mother lay two coffins._

_One trimmed with pink bows, and the other covered in belladonnas._

_“I think it’s high time that you joined them.”_

_A gun sounded._


	5. Countess Navarro

Monty shot up in his bed, chest heaving as he looked frantically at the state of the room around him.

Seeing that everything was in its proper place, and the only black thing in the room was the dress that Sibella was to wear the next few days as she “mourned” the death of her husband, and that the blonde in question was sitting at the vanity with a hairbrush in hand.

“Monty, darling. You look frightened half to death, is everything alright?” Sibella was worried, and at a glimpse of himself in the mirror in front of her, Monty couldn’t blame her.

His hair was disheveled, and he was still wearing his suit from the night before, stained in places with blood, as well as his hands.

Phoebe’s blood.

“Has there been any word on Phoebe? Any word at all?” Monty’s voice held panic, and he did not fail to notice the way Sibella’s eyes were red, as though she had been crying. Sibella shook her head, whimpering as she tried to keep herself from bursting into tears.

“I hate this. I feel as though I am trapped in this room and no one will tell me anything! I haven’t seen Violet since she arrived this morning to add more fuel to the fire, and Miss Shingle stopped by mere moments before you woke up asking me to send you to clean yourself up before meeting with the doctor in the hall by Phoebe’s room.” Sibella felt helpless, she had to play the grieving wife, while her grief came from the state the brunette girl she had opened her heart to was in.

Monty barreled out of the bed, realizing how entangled he had been when he tripped and landed face first on the floor.

“I’ll be back soon.” Monty kissed Sibella quickly, caressing her cheek with his thumb just briefly, but seeing the red tinge staining it, he quickly withdrew his hand.

“Monty!” Sibella called to him after he started toward the door.

“Promise me that you’ll tell me what’s happening, you must promise me. I can’t be kept in the dark about this, Monty, I simply couldn’t handle it.” Sibella plead, looking at her lover through tears.

“I’ll send Miss Shingle with any information. It would raise the alarm if I came to tell you personally instead of remaining with Phoebe.” Monty promised, bustling off to the bathroom down the hall.

Monty bathed so quickly that he didn’t wait for the water to cool before he stepped into the tub, scrubbing at the blood covering him furiously until the water turned pink, and then he rushed to dry himself and get dressed.

“How is Phoebe?” Monty could hardly stop himself from blurting out his question the minute he saw the doctor waiting outside of the room he shared with Phoebe.

“I’m so terribly sorry, you must forgive my bad manners.” He apologized quickly, shaking the doctor’s hand.

“No need for apologies, Your Lordship. I imagine you’ve had quite the shock.” The doctor assured him, bringing him to the bedroom door.

“The Countess is expected to recover, though it will take time. Her Ladyship sustained several large gashes, as well as a sprained ankle. From the severity of her injuries, as well as her loss of consciousness it appears to me that she was attacked, though I couldn’t say by what.” The doctor filled Monty in as best he could, and promised he’d return in three days to check The Countess’s recovery and see how it progressed.

Monty thanked him, paying him generously, and then went into their bedroom.

Phoebe lay in the bed, bandaged, but alive.

From what Monty could see, her pallor had also improved, despite the fact that the brunette was asleep.

Kneeling once more at her bedside, Monty took her hand, grateful to feel the warmth coming off of it above anything else, as he gently ran his thumb over each of her petite knuckles.

“Warm is good. Warm means that Phoebe is alive.” Monty thought to himself, taking in her appearance at the closer angle.

Her hair had been washed, that much was evident as the blood that had matted it was gone, and her hair had been released from her braid, flowing loosely around her, framing her face like an angel.

Phoebe had also been changed into a pale lavender nightgown, which Monty much preferred over the bloodstained dress she had been found in the previous day.

“My poor, sweet Phoebe.” Monty allowed himself this moment to cry, he had been so scared that he would lose her, so scared that she would die.

Hours passed as Monty sat at Phoebe’s side, occasionally taking a bite or two of the meal that Miss Shingle had brought to him after she informed Sibella of Phoebe’s condition.

Eventually, Monty excused himself to their bathroom, needing desperately to relieve himself, but not wanting to leave Phoebe’s side for even a moment.

However, upon his return he saw Phoebe was awake, and looking around the room confused until she saw him.

She held out her arms to him, looking very much like a child who had been frightened, and Monty wasted no time in going to her, and kissed her passionately.

This kiss was unlike any other kiss he had ever shared with his wife, it was desperate on both ends, Monty indirectly told Phoebe what hell he had been through, while Phoebe informed Monty of just how frightened she had been.

When the two pulled away to breathe, Phoebe was crying.

“Don’t cry, my sweet. I’m here, you’re here. It’s alright, nothing’s going to happen to you like this, not ever again.” Monty held his wife, smelling the belladonna in her perfume, and feeling the way she trembled.

“Sibella?” Phoebe whimpered after a moment in his embrace, grasping his hands as tightly as she could without disturbing one of her gashes.

“She’s safe, my love. She’s currently giving the maids a hard time because none of them will tell her anything about how you are. I daresay we’re all quite relieved.” Monty kissed her cheek, trying to prop her up without causing her pain.

“You must send for her, immediately.” Phoebe was quick about her statement; she must have known how worried Sibella was.

“Miss Shingle, have a tray sent up for Countess Navarro, and once she has eaten will you send for Mrs. Holland?” Monty requested, to which the portly maid bustled off.


	6. Phoebe

Not long after Phoebe had finished her tray, the door to their bedroom opened and Sibella was announced.

The blonde woman could hardly contain herself until the door had shut behind her, moving immediately to Phoebe’s bedside and pressing a gentle kiss to the brunette’s cheek.

“Oh, Phoebe… My poor, darling Phoebe! What horrid,  _monster_ did this to you?” Sibella’s words were merely a whisper as her eyes darted back and forth over Phoebe’s body, noting that nearly the entire length of the Countess’s left arm was covered in bandages.

Phoebe did not respond, and seconds later a small sob escaped from the brunette as tears spilled down alabaster cheeks.

Monty gave Sibella a harsh look before gently pulling Phoebe into his arms and holding her while she cried, and after a moment, Sibella sat next to them and sang a soft lullaby while braiding the girl’s brunette tresses.

It was unlike Phoebe to be so openly vulnerable, the Countess was the epitome of collected in nearly all situations, so for the brunette to be so openly shaken was increasingly alarming not only to Monty but to Sibella.

“Phoebe, _please_. Someone deserves to suffer for the hell they’ve caused you.” Monty plead, tracing patterns with his fingers on the small of her back.

Phoebe stiffened in his arms, and then bolted for the bathroom, and was violently sick.

This time Sibella gave Monty the harsh look, to cause their sweet Phoebe to be ill just to find out who the perpetrator was.

“Come back to bed, darling. We’ll speak no more of this for now.” Sibella’s voice was soft and warm, reminiscent of the way a kitten would purr when it slept on a lap after a bowl of warm milk.

Phoebe nodded, and tried to stand, only for weak legs to buckle beneath her and land her back on the cold floor.

Monty moved toward her, offering his arm, but after a second, futile, attempt to stand, Phoebe ended up being cradled in Monty’s arms, snuggling into his chest and drifting back to sleep.

A few moments passed, the only sounds to be heard were the crackling fire, and the breath of the room’s three occupants.

Sibella continued to stroke Phoebe’s hair, she had grown so fond of the brunette’s tresses being down, she felt it were almost a shame when said tresses were swept into the elegant, sophisticated styles. Monty stared out at the yard through the window.

“Monty?” Sibella kept her voice soft, as not to wake Phoebe.

“Yes, Sibella?” Monty too was quiet, but for other reasons.

His blood boiled when he thought about what that ruffian had done to Phoebe, she had done nothing to deserve what had evidently been deemed punishment.

“I don’t believe that the person responsible should be let off easily.” Sibella’s voice turned ice cold, Monty nearly shivered.

“I quite agree.” Was the only response Monty offered.


	7. A Ball

Phoebe’s recovery was difficult, and Monty could hardly stand to see the torment in his wife’s eyes, but there was a tenant’s ball coming up, and Phoebe had been requested to attend despite all tenant’s knowledge of the attack a month prior.

The night of the ball, Phoebe was visibly anxious as Violet helped her dress, and even still as Monty looked in so they could go down together.

“Are you alright, darling?” Monty asked, pressing a kiss to Phoebe’s temple.

“I think so, shall we go down?” Phoebe’s voice trembled, but Monty offered his arm and they started to descend the staircase into the ballroom.

Just before the Countess and Earl of High Hurst crossed through the doors to the ballroom, Phoebe’s dazzling smile took the place a nervous smile had previously been, and they stood at the doors to greet their guests.

As guests arrived Phoebe relaxed into Monty, smiling and greeting their guests, Sibella had arrived, out of mourning and had greeted Phoebe the way they had so often in the presence of other people, a cordial smile, a polite greeting and a thank you for the invitation in Sibella’s case.

The ballroom was full of glittering gowns and filled from floor to ceiling with laughter and music, the sight set Phoebe’s heart at ease, remembering the first ball held at High Hurst after their marriage and Monty’s release, the way he had held her close, and danced with her to all her favorites, then swept her to the refreshments table for champagne and a biscuit.

For the first time since the attack, Phoebe felt at ease, so much in fact that she encouraged Monty to offer Sibella a dance, noting how the blonde stood at the wall, looking at the couples dancing on the floor, but graciously refusing the older tenant that asked her for a dance, having just returned from a dance with a young boy, one of the tenant’s youngest son who couldn’t have been any older than six.

Monty smiled, and made his way toward Sibella, while Phoebe opted to socialize with some of the tenant’s wives who were not dancing as their husbands were talking business.

Not long into a conversation consisting of the current fashions and fads, a man approached Phoebe and asked her for the pleasure of a dance.

While Phoebe smiled, and accepted due to their audience, though she felt her insides turn icy.

As he took her hand and started to walk Phoebe’s eyes were desperately scanning the crowd on the floor for Monty or Sibella, though the pair was nowhere to be found and Phoebe noticed the man’s grip getting tighter on her wrist.

All too quickly they were away from the crowd and down into the grounds of the castle.

Away from Monty, Sibella, and the guards.

“Well, well. I daresay I didn’t expect you to survive our last encounter, D’ysquith.” The man sneered, pulling Phoebe closer to the point she could smell the way his breath reeked of brandy and lamb.

Phoebe could say nothing, only whimper as he pulled a blade from his pocket and showed her the blade, significantly larger than the one he had used a month prior.

Meanwhile in the ballroom Monty and Sibella had noticed Phoebe’s disappearance, and had guards making the rounds.

For every second that passed, Monty’s heart seemed to beat faster, pounding in his chest.

Finally, after what seemed like centuries Monty saw Phoebe on the grounds with a man pointing a knife at her, shouting.

“Guards!” Monty shouted, and in one instant they had snapped into action, one tackling the man and three pulling Phoebe away before he could lunge forward with the knife, two more trying to wrestle the knife from his grip, and one running for the inspectors in the ballroom.

When Phoebe finally saw Monty, she practically flew to him, sobbing and distraught.

Only after making sure Phoebe was unharmed and the inspectors were present, Monty approached the man on the ground who was smiling wickedly at Phoebe and shouting obscene things.

“Who are you, and how _dare_ you think that you can do such horrid things to _my_ wife!” Monty landed one perfectly aimed punch, knocking out two of the man’s teeth as he sputtered.

“Little Phoebe’s darling brother owes me. He’s dead and I won’t get a penny from you, so I had to take matters into my own hands.” The man hissed, spitting blood.

“Henry promised me that I could have his darling little sister if I kept his secret.” He growled as Monty reached Phoebe.

In one horrifying moment Phoebe fainted and the man managed to break free from the guards, grabbing Phoebe and pulling her toward the forest.

“Stop him!” Monty shouted as a guard loaded a gun, aimed it, and fired.

The gunshot rang out through the grounds, but nowhere near as loud as Sibella’s scream.

_‘No!”_


	8. A Nightmare

In one horrid moment of clarity, Phoebe woke up and pulled away from her attacker, and then there was blood sprayed across the bodice of her gown and face.

Sibella’s hands clasped around her mouth, hung open in shock, the blonde’s entire body trembling.

The look of horror in Phoebe’s eyes was enough to stop Monty’s heart alone, but the moment was tense, both Phoebe and the man still stood, but both had blood on them.

Monty was certain the guard had accidentally shot Phoebe until the man fell clutching his chest a few seconds later, and Monty rushed to Phoebe as she swooned, but didn’t quite faint.

Pressing a desperate but chaste kiss to Phoebe’s lips was enough to convince him she was alright, considering the circumstances.

“Miss Shingle, would you kindly escort the Countess to her dressing room and help her clean up. I have some business to attend to before I look in.” Monty was furious, not with Phoebe, or any of the guards, but with the man who had tried to violate his wife, and most importantly with himself.

Miss Shingle nodded, and followed behind Phoebe as the brunette shakily made her way into the castle.

Once his wife’s form had disappeared behind the wall at the top of the stairs, Monty made certain that the guards escorted the man to the inspector’s car, and then to the prison, before he checked on his wife.

“Her Ladyship is asleep, milord. Can I fetch you anything?” Violet curtsied at the sight of hurried and angry looking Earl, stuttering slightly when he stopped at her abruptly.

“No, Violet. Thank you, but do tell Miss Shingle to tell the kitchen staff that I’ll be sending for a tray for her Ladyship when she’s awake and hungry.” Monty sighed.

Violet nodded and walked off to the servant stairway, and it was then Monty caught a glimpse of his reflection in the hall mirror.

His hair was wild and all over the place, his tails were crooked and skewed slightly, his Earl’s coronet now completely hidden by his waistcoat.

Swiping a hand over his wild hair to try and smooth it back into submission, Monty turned the knob and opened the door.

Phoebe’s petite frame was covered in thick blankets, but Monty could still see his wife shivering beneath them.

Rather than risk waking his wife, Monty could only look as he fell into the chair and fell asleep far too quickly for his liking.

 

 

_“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Navarro.” Lionel’s gruff voice gloated, and Monty’s eyes snapped open to reveal that eerie scene he was trying so valiantly to forget._

_The coffins were still there, the window coverings still stating a house in mourning, and Monty’s mother still stood in the corner of the room, unmoving, but looking at him coldly enough to make the ninth Earl of High Hurst shiver._

_“I did not raise my son to become a murderer, Montague.” Isobel’s voice was equal parts welcome, and unwanted._

_Monty couldn’t bring himself to say anything, he hadn’t heard his mother’s voice in such a long while._

_“And furthermore, to take a married woman as your mistress! Were I not already dead I should have died of shame! That poor woman who was naïve enough to take you as her husband, and then to encourage her to partake in such horrid and sinful actions!”_

_“Now that is quite enough, Mother. Phoebe is one of the greatest things I have ever had the privilege to have in my life. I will not stand for you speaking ill of my Countess!” Monty’s rage got the better of him, how dare his mother speak so awfully of sweet Phoebe!_

_Isobel softened slightly._

_“She will perish, that much is certain.” Isobel’s voice was soft, as if her tone would be enough to cushion Monty from the blow of the meaning of her words._

_Monty went rigid._

_“She shall not! Nor shall Sibella! I should never live with myself if any further harm should come to them. I shall do everything within my power to ensure they remain safe and live a long and fulfilled life! And my sins be what they may, I will not let them die!” Monty bellowed, face an angry shade of red._

_“Time to return, Navarro. But you ought to be prepared!” Lionel guffawed, laughing maniacally as the room blurred, and was plunged into darkness._


	9. Fear

“Monty! Darling!” Phoebe’s voice broke through the laughter, sending Monty upright in the chair, and onto the floor, face first.

Monty tried valiantly to catch his breath, to calm himself despite his head reeling.

“Monty, dear. Are you quite alright?” Phoebe was concerned, and when he looked up to meet her eyes, Monty felt bad.

With all the trauma of that very night, or was it the next day?

Monty couldn’t be sure, but regardless, with all the hell Phoebe had been through, she was still concerned for him.

“Yes, Phoebe. I had a nightmare, that’s all.” Monty replied as he slowly rose, and sat back on the bed.

His ever-faithful wife flitted to his side in less than a moment, resting a hand on his cheek, and kissing his forehead gently, despite the trembling of her own hands.

“I do wish you’d tell me what it was about. Perhaps I could-”. Monty was swift to cut Phoebe off.

“It’s nothing to trouble you with. You ought to get back to sleep, my darling. There’s no stopping Sibella from breaking down our door first thing in the morning to inquire after you, or smother you in kisses.”

Phoebe giggled, a sound to lessen the fear in Monty’s heart.

“She’s liable to do both, so we _both_ ought to get some sleep.” His wife smiled softly, but her hands still trembled, and Monty could see an inkling of terror in her eyes that she was unsuccessful in hiding.

After several hours more of sleep, Monty woke to Phoebe curled blissfully into his embrace, he had lay awake until Phoebe’s breathing slowed, and then became normal again before he allowed himself to fall asleep.

As Monty lay motionless, determined not to disturb Phoebe for even a second, he studied the tresses of coffee colored hair, the way it shone in the combination of morning light and firelight from the crackling fire that served to keep them warm in the night, as well as the way the strands seemed to know when their mistress was sleeping they could do what they pleased, often escaping the plait Phoebe often wore her hair in to sleep.

Phoebe sighed, and snuggled closer to Monty, seeking the warmth and comfort her husband so often provided.

“Phoebe, my love.” Monty prodded, chuckling when she burrowed deeper into the comforter she had wrapped so carefully around her shoulders.

“Phoebe.” Monty tried again, more successfully, as Phoebe sighed, but rolled over to face him.

“Are you well, my darling? After last night, I mean.” Monty poised his question very carefully indeed, he did not wish to distress Phoebe, but the Earl couldn’t help but wonder.

Phoebe didn’t answer, eyes shuttering slowly back into sleep.

Monty took that as his answer, Phoebe hardly went back to sleep after waking initially, not unless she were ill.

A brush of his fingertips against her forehead to sweep away a stray tendril of hair found her forehead to be much warmer than its normal temperature, and the way she sought heat was always a decent indicator.

Rising slowly, as not to wake Phoebe, Monty stood, replaced the blankets so that Phoebe would stay warm, and exited to his dressing room down the hall.

He would allow Phoebe to rest for the day without demanding the doctor be summoned, she often insisted that she would not allow him to be sent for without being deemed unwell for no less than twenty-four hours.

She did so hate to cause strife.

Inside of his dressing room, Monty was not shocked to see Sibella perched on his reading chair.

“How is she?” Sibella was not one to beat around the bush, in any situation.

“Mentally, she seems to be alright, she hasn’t shown any of the signs of distress.” Monty replied, pouring himself a cup of tea from the tray Sibella had no doubt rung Miss Shingle for.

Sibella raised one arched eyebrow.

“And how is she physically? Or have I misinterpreted your statement.” Her voice told she would accept no nonsense.

Monty turned, sitting on the chair opposite Sibella.

“She appears to be ill, but you know how she is. If she has not improved by breakfast tomorrow morning, I shall ring for Miss Shingle to send for the doctor at once. Have you any plans today?” Monty was quick to change the subject.

Sibella nodded.

“I have a meeting with a dressmaker in Clapham. I shall stay with my parents tonight, and return home in the morning. Have you?” Sibella inquired.

“I have to go to Salisbury to look in on the tenants staying in Henry’s house. I promised them I’d drop in. They’ve asked me for dinner and to spend the night. I shan’t be back until luncheon tomorrow.” Monty sighed.

The last thing he wanted to do was leave Phoebe on her own, not after the incident the night before.

“Is it wise to leave Phoebe on her own? Do you not recall what happened just last evening?” Sibella seemed to know exactly how to make Monty feel guilty, even more so than he already did.

“It’s too late now, I’ve already accepted and it should look very rude for me to decline now. Phoebe is ill, I daresay she won’t be up and wandering the castle on her own. Nevertheless, I shall instruct Violet to look after her, she’s absolutely devoted to Phoebe.” Monty finished off the last of his tea, and Sibella took her leave, pressing a kiss to Monty’s lips before closing the door behind her.

As Monty dressed, his dream pressed heavily on his mind.

_“I must be going frightfully mad. Mother has been dead and buried for years now, rest her soul. She couldn’t possibly speak to me from beyond and tell me such horrid things. It must be my conscience, pressing me to repent for the crimes I have committed in my quest to become Earl.”_ Monty decided within his mind.

Lionel Holland would not continue to torment him, even in death.

With that thought in mind, Monty entered the motorcar, and started the journey to Salisbury.

 

 

 

 

After a long and tiring journey by car, Monty finally arrived back home to High Hurst, home to Phoebe.

Despite his thrill to be home at last, he continued to have nightmares regarding his mother and Lionel, and he couldn’t quite account for why they persisted to invade his subconscious whilst he slept.

Greeting his butler at the front door, but declining the butler’s request to speak to him privately, he crossed the front hall into the drawing room, eager to see Phoebe and Sibella after a long night away.

He didn’t want to ignore his butler, but he was simply too ready to greet his girls.

When Monty opened the door to the drawing room he noticed there was no sign of Phoebe, but stranger still, Sibella was pacing back and forth in a frenzy, hands clasped firmly over her mouth and staring intensely at the floor.

“Sibella?”

The blonde in question jumped at the sound of his voice, swallowing quickly and then meeting his eye.

“Monty! I’m so pleased you’re home. Was everything with the tenants satisfactory?” Sibella inquired, but Monty saw the tears brimming in her eyes.

“I’d rather discuss what has you in such a state.” The Earl replied, going to Sibella’s side and leading her to the chaise.

Sibella choked back a sob, tears finally escaping and running haphazardly down her cheeks.

“I woke in the middle of the night to a scream, Phoebe’s scream. I ran to her room to soothe her from her nightmare, but when I knocked there was no response, and when I opened her door, her window was open and her bed empty. I rang for the guards and they’ve had the inspectors out since this morning looking. And Monty...” Sibella’s voice trembling as she held back more sobs so she could talk to Monty.

“Yes?” Monty’s eyes were wide with terror and he clasped Sibella’s hand tightly within his.

“They haven’t found anything yet. She’s just gone! There was no trace of her on the grounds, no sign of her anywhere.” Sibella finally gave in, sobbing hysterically and falling into Monty’s embrace, unable to keep herself upright any longer.

“Where was Violet! Why did she leave her Countess unaccompanied after my strictest instructions!” Monty’s rage burned brightly, the servant girl’s negligence was what lead to this!

“She says Phoebe sent her into the village for a special tea that the castle had run out of. I didn’t dare question her any further without you here.” Sibella blubbered, taking a handkerchief out of her corset and using it to wipe her eyes.

“Right. Well I should like to get to the bottom of this, so I’ll ring for Miss Shingle and Violet now.” Monty stated, crossing and ringing the bell.

After a few moments, Miss Shingle and Violet appeared, and Monty tried valiantly to control his rage.

Violet had evidently been crying since that morning, and after further investigation Miss Shingle confirmed that Phoebe had in fact sent Violet out into the village, and that Shingle herself had sat with the Countess until Phoebe dismissed her, assuring the portly old woman that she could manage until Violet returned.

Monty apologized for his behavior, and sent them off before collapsing onto the couch, head between his hands.

He would not cry.

Not yet.

Not until he heard about Phoebe.


	10. Water

The day Monty spent waiting for news of Phoebe was agonizing, even still as day turned into night and there was still no word.

In fact, the only thing Monty was certain of, was the fact that he had created a rut in the floor from his constant pacing, as he felt physically unable to remain still.

“Monty, you must eat something. You haven’t touched a bite of anything since you arrived, and you said earlier that you had breakfast very early this morning before you started your leg of the journey home.” Sibella had a point, and Monty was starving, but his mind kept taking him back to Phoebe.

“ _This would never have happened if I declined. I could have just as easily invited the tenants here to dine with us, they would have accepted! I would have been in the same bed as Phoebe last night, I would have heard the intruder, heard her scream, and I would have finished him off just like I would have done to that man if I had been given the chance to be alone with him.”_ Monty was beside himself, feeling as though he were barely able to breathe, much less sit down and eat.

“Phoebe won’t be happy to learn that you’ve starved yourself on her account.” Sibella made her point very clear, and she was correct.

Monty gave a heavy sigh and sat down to the tray of sandwiches, unfolding his napkin in his lap before picking one up and taking a bite.

Then a thought occurred to him, and it struck the Earl as odd, so he had to inquire.

“You said that you were staying with your parents, yet you claim you heard Phoebe scream. I hardly think that Phoebe’s scream could be heard from Clapham.” Monty’s tone was pointed, something was not right.

“I had rather an odd nightmare on my way to my appointment, having fallen asleep in the car. Lionel told me that Phoebe would die, and then it would be my turn, I immediately told the chauffer to turn the car around and head home. I felt quite uneasy.” Sibella explained.

“Will he swear to this, the chauffer?” Monty inquired hastily.

“He will, if you summon him and stop thinking I’d harm Phoebe! You know very well that I love her too, so why in God’s name would I ever harm her!” Sibella was angry now, and Monty couldn’t blame her.

The chauffer came and went, confirming Sibella’s explanation as truth, and Monty kissed her after apologizing.

The drawing room door opened, and Monty quickly distanced himself from Sibella just in case it was a servant, unfamiliar with their arrangement.

Instead, Miss Shingle entered.

“Inspector Pinkney from Scotland Yard wishes to see you, milord.” She stated, then showed the man in on her way out.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your dinner, milord. But we found Countess Navarro.” The old man stated, but something about his tone that set Monty on edge.

“Is she alright?” Sibella inquired before Monty could even form the words.

“You’d better come.” Was the only response the inspector offered.

Monty raced behind the old man, through the corridors of the castle and out through the grounds, into the woods and through the trees to the clearing by the river where Monty would take Sibella and Phoebe for picnic luncheons and to wade in the shallow banks.

It was there he saw Phoebe.

Phoebe, his Countess, his wife, was lying on the grass, soaked through, and unmoving.

As Monty approached, he noticed that her skin was deathly pale, and her chest did not rise and fall with breath, her hair was matted with algae from the river and lay behind her, looking dull and lifeless.

It was then Monty realized that Phoebe _was_ lifeless.

The Earl fell to his knees next to his wife’s body, and cradled her in his arms, recoiling at how cold she was, all the warmth her body previously held gone.

Her face was pale as Monty had ever seen it, her eyes closed, never to open again, eyelashes thick, but droplets of water resting on the tips of them, her hair matted and tangled from the running water.

It all hit Monty at once, the grief he was feeling for his deceased wife, the shame for leaving her on her own, the guilt for knowing she looked to him to protect her, and he had failed several times in a row. The realization she would never wake up again, never lie next to him in bed, never give him those heart melting looks she reserved just for him, never share her chocolate with him. She would never do any of the things he loved about her, not ever again.

It was all too much, and the Earl began to sob uncontrollably, cradling Phoebe close to him as his hot tears hit her frigid cheeks and rolled down them, giving the illusion that Phoebe was crying, even in death.

“We’ve sent for the mortician, milord.” The inspector stated after Monty’s sobs quieted to nothing, but the man’s shoulders still shook with them, and he still gasped for breath.

Monty could not be sure how long had passed between his arrival in the clearing, and the arrival of the mortician, who place his beloved Phoebe on a cot, so that he and his assistant could carry her back through the forest to their car, where they would take her away from him, prepare her for the funeral they could not avoid, and determine the cause of her death.

When Monty stood, it began to rain, and through the rain you could hardly tell that the ninth Earl of High Hurst had been sobbing, except for his swollen red eyes and red nose.

Monty thought how fitting the pouring rain was, the sky was even crying for the gentlest soul he had ever known apart from his mother.

And in the end, his mother had been right, Phoebe had died, and there was nothing he could do now that would reverse time, and his decisions, so he could save her.

All that Monty could do now, is send Miss Shingle to inform Sibella, ask his valet to retrieve his mourning clothing so he could change, ask for a tray to be sent to his room, though he was certain he would not touch a single thing on it, grieve for Phoebe, and await the mortician’s report.


	11. Shock

Sibella was distraught, as Monty figured she would be.

Upon hearing the news, the blonde woman near fainted, but caught herself on the chaise in her room before dissolving into hysterical sobs herself.

Any other time, Monty would have gone to the woman to comfort her, but the Earl could do no more than hold himself together long enough to close the door, and walk into his room where he promptly did the same.

Tears cascaded in an endless stream down Monty’s cheeks as his sobs made his chest shake with effort, his heart felt broken beyond repair, and he almost laughed at the situation, how he would have murdered anyone who would have told him what the current situation would be.

_“To think, I married Phoebe so that I would have a woman of position by my side when I murdered the Earl and inherited the title, at the time, she was no more than a societal pawn in my plan. I never dreamed I’d fall hopelessly in love with her the way I was with Sibella.”_ Monty thought, ultimately leading him to continue to cry until he managed to fall onto the bed in a state like sleep, but not nearly as restful as it ought to have been.

When Monty woke next, it was to a knock on his door and the butler’s voice.

As it happened, the butler brought a tray of food into Monty’s room, told him that Mrs. Holland had requested to see him in the drawing room and then left without another word.

After that, Monty ate half of a piece of toast, but left the rest of the tray untouched, and did much the same with various other foods that were brought to him by the staff, eating not nearly enough, and laying on his side on the chaise Phoebe often spent her downtime in between changing, cradling her favorite book of poetry in his arms.

This went on for several weeks, Monty saw only the staff, his valet to change, the butler or Miss Shingle to get his tray, the scullery maid to light and tend the fire, but he hardly spoke to any of them.

One day, a knock was accompanied by a different voice.

Monty stood, and opened the door to Inspector Pinkney.

“I’m sorry to bother your lordship, but I’ve had some news and I feel rather uncomfortable with you not knowing.” The inspector stated, clearing his throat.

Monty detected nervousness in the man, but he supposed that was common.

“Go on.” Monty’s voice was hoarse and scratchy from his lack of use.

The inspector bowed his head, and Monty’s heart stopped beating at the next words the man spoke.

Monty’s legs buckled beneath him, and the butler who had escorted the inspector in rushed to lead him to the bed.

A new wave of grief hit him, harder than he thought were possible given the circumstances. Tears pricked at his vision, turning the entire room and the inspector blurry, which was somewhat comforting to Monty, it added a distance from the situation he hadn’t expected, but craved nevertheless.

“I’m also here to inform you that the coffin for her Ladyship is finished, and that she’s ready for her funeral as soon as you can arrange it.” The inspector finished, bowing his head and stating he’d leave the Earl.

“How did she die?” The words left Monty’s tongue before he realized he thought them.

“Drowned, my lord. As a matter of fact, I’m to speak to a few of your staff downstairs about that detail, I’ve had two staff members state they wished to speak to me.” The inspector stopped abruptly, turning to answer the Earl.

“I’d like my butler to be present, if he may.” Monty stated, to which the inspector nodded and the butler escorted him below to the servant’s quarters.

After the door closed, the full force of grief hit Monty again, but this time he allowed his tears to fall, crossing to where Phoebe’s book lay, and breathing in the scent of her perfume mixed with the scent of leather that the book was bound in.

 No doubt Phoebe had read that book so many times, for her perfume to sink into the leather binding and linger for weeks after her death.

After allowing himself a few hours to sob his heart out, Monty stood, dried his eyes and cheeks with the black handkerchief in his pocket, and left his room for the first time since Phoebe’s death.

Walking down the corridors into the one where Sibella’s room was located, Monty felt as though he were walking through the midst of a forest covered in thick fog.

His body stopped moving automatically at Sibella’s door, knocking for him, but his mind was further occupied.

When Sibella answered the door, she was dressed head to toe in black, and she wore no makeup, which was uncommon for the blonde woman, but Monty could understand.

After Monty crossed into the room, and sat down with his head between his hands, Sibella shut the door and locked it.

“How are you?” Sibella asked quietly, though Monty could hear that she too, had recently been crying.

“Phoebe is dead. How else could I be? I couldn’t protect her, I’m the reason she died! I hardly thought I could feel worse and here I am, feeling far worse than I did when I woke this morning.” Monty snapped, and Sibella’s eyes watered again.

“What’s changed? Why do you feel worse about her death than you already did?” Sibella whimpered, crossing to her bed and sitting down.

“Phoebe was pregnant. I didn’t know until today when the inspector dropped in.” Monty replied, softer than he had just been.

Sibella gasped, her hand covering her mouth in shock and horror, tears spilling down her cheeks.

They both remained there for a moment, the silence in the room thick, until Sibella’s sobs grew too loud for her to stifle.

“H-How could someone murder a p-pregnant woman! It’s heartless!” she sobbed, and Monty rose to go to her side and pulled her into his embrace, breaking down again.

“The inspector said it was very early on, he said that it was unlikely that Phoebe knew about it.” Monty murmured.

“I’m tired, Monty. Please don’t leave me. Not yet.” Sibella yawned after her bout of tears passed.

“I won’t.” Monty couldn’t bring himself to kiss her cheek, but he knew she didn’t want to be alone in that trying time.

They had been trying to recover on their own, and failed miserably.

That much, Monty could attest.


	12. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow.

Within months inspectors came and went as they pleased, but none spoke a word of why they were there to Monty, stating only that his staff could tell him if they saw fit.

Sibella and Monty both turned up at the D’ysquith family crypt, where all of his predecessors lay and where he too would turn dust when his time came, for the laying of Phoebe’s urn on the bannister outside of the crypt.

“Six months. It feels more like six thousand years.” Monty remarked as they walked home from the crypt, from Phoebe.

Sibella nodded in agreement, not willing to betray herself by speaking.

Another six months marked the first year without Phoebe, and Monty and Sibella did not seem to improve in their grief, though Sibella had won the small victory of getting Monty out of full mourning and settled into his half-mourning wardrobe.

But that had been the only real victory Sibella had won, for every night before he fell into a restless sleep, he would hold Phoebe’s favorite novel in his hands, press the leather to his nose for merely a whiff of her lavender mint hand oil that had mingled with the belladonna perfume that he spritzed onto the book every two days, desperate for the memory.

Three scents he was certain that he would never smell again.

In his sleep, Monty recalled one of his favorite memories of Phoebe.

_The sun was shining brightly on the gardens of the castle, and Monty strolled beside Phoebe, who had her parasol over them both as if to prevent the sun’s rays from touching even an inch of their skin_

_“You seem very thoughtful today, darling.” Monty commented, seeing that Phoebe did not stop to smell her beloved patch of belladonnas he had the garden staff put in._

_“Do I? I suppose it’s nothing important.” Phoebe had answered back, purposely averting her eyes._

_“Is there something that’s upset you, my darling? I wish you’d tell me.” Monty stopped them abruptly, turning Phoebe to face him so that he could look into her eyes._

_Phoebe didn’t speak, but in a flash, she had ripped his coronet from his neck and started to run, giggling as she threw her parasol aside, sun be damned!_

_Monty merely laughed and chased after her, despite his amusement of just how quickly she could run in those heels she had chosen._

_But even Phoebe’s sheer speed could not deter Monty from winning, as he expertly herded her toward the river, where she stopped quickly, quite a distance from the muddy banks._

_Monty came to a stop near her, and took back his coronet._

_“Don’t fancy a swim?” Monty teased, nipping at her neck when he kissed her cheek._

_Phoebe’s eyes went from Monty’s face, to the river, and back again._

_“You can’t swim?”_

_Phoebe shook her head, and Monty saw one tear slip._

_“No, Mother always insisted it wasn’t proper, I remember the row we had. It was the last time I spoke to her before Spanish Influenza killed her.” Phoebe looked at Monty._

_Monty took her hand, and helped her out of her dress and such so that she were comfortable enough to learn how to swim, and Phoebe took to the water as though she had lived in it all her life. Giggling and splashing Monty, squealing when he would splash her or go under the water to pull her under with him._

_When they arrived back at the castle, dripping wet, Sibella had been furious, but her anger quickly dissipated when Phoebe insisted that the three of them go back to swim the next day, with a child-like excitement that neither of her two lovers had seen before._

Monty sighed, pressed a gentle kiss to Phoebe’s book, and fell next to Sibella in bed, into yet another uneasy, restless sleep.


	13. Intrigue

Monty practically jumped out of bed, startling Sibella who had still been asleep next to him.

“Phoebe couldn’t have drowned! I taught her to swim myself, and the river they pulled her out of was the very same one she learned in!” Monty rambled, pacing in the space between the window and vanity.

“Monty?” Sibella’s voice was thick with sleep.

“And the river is never rough enough to pull one under, never! I must speak to the inspector.” Monty continued until Sibella called his name again.

“Darling, come back to bed.” Sibella purred, arms extended despite her being half asleep.

Monty sat back on the bed but refused to let himself join Sibella.

“There’s a chance we’ve been lied to, Sibella. About Phoebe, about how she died, and I refuse to let them get away with it. I’ll be back.” He promised, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, ignoring her pout.

Entering the hallway, he found Miss Shingle walking his direction.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, your Lordship, but the inspector is back and he’s quite adamant he speak with you. He’s brought someone with him who also wishes to see you.” Miss Shingle stopped when she reached him.

“How curious. Where are they?” Monty inquired.

“He is in the drawing room, but he insists he be the one to take you to the next person.” Miss Shingle replies, before excusing herself to see to a matter in the servants hall.

Monty had his valet dress him before he looked in on the inspector, not sure if he would be asked to go anywhere outside of the castle grounds.

When Monty entered the drawing room, he noticed the inspector looking at a photograph of his wedding day, with Phoebe in her gown and he in his tails, smiling brightly.

“So sorry to keep you waiting, I wasn’t properly dressed.” Monty’s voice made the man jump.

“It’s no trouble, your lordship, no trouble at all. It’s just that early this morning, the village fire chief and staff responded to a fire in Clapham, and while it was not one of your lordship’s properties, there was someone there who survived and begged to see you. Now, they made some claims I cannot quite determine to be true without consulting you. So I’ve brought them here to see you.” The inspector stated, not wasting any time on formalities.

“I should like to see this person, I’m most intrigued. What are the claims?” Monty inquired politely, trying valiantly not to get his hopes up.

“Well, this woman claims to be Countess Navarro. She claims that she was drugged, thrown into the river, pulled out and presented to you as dead, then taken to a house in Clapham where she has been held hostage.” The inspector said gruffly.

“And do you believe there is truth to any of these claims?” Monty’s heart was pounding as they walked to the servants quarters.

“She does resemble Countess Navarro in height and stature, and upon investigation by the police, the Countess’s body was not in the D’ysquith family crypt where she was laid to rest. She had quite an expensive wedding ring on, and she does sound like the Countess, but we’d like you to verify these things.” The inspector explained, stopping at Miss Shingle’s sitting room door.

“I shall wait for you in the servants hall, I figured you might like some privacy.” The inspector dismissed himself, and Monty took a desperate breath before opening the door.

The inspector was right, the woman did resemble Phoebe in terms of her body, her hair was longer than Phoebe’s had been when she died, but if what was said was true, that was dismissible.

“I won’t beat about the bush. What’s one thing that only my Phoebe would know? Make it a good one because if I find this to be too common, I shall have you sent out and thrown in jail for impersonating a dead woman.” Monty’s statement was harsh, but he had to be sure.

He couldn’t bear it if this woman was not Phoebe.

For a year, she had been dead to him, but in one hour she had been brought back, only if she could prove her identity.

The brunette stepped closer, and Monty could see just how similar the movement was to Phoebe’s.

A hushed whisper floated across the room, and Monty’s heart nearly soared, for this voice sounded so much like Phoebe.

But it was the statement that convinced him.

Only Phoebe and Sibella would know he murdered Henry and the rest of the D’ysquith family to assume the earldom.

“One more.” Monty choked out.

“You adore it when you find Sibella and I tangled in bed together, and not long after you join the tangle of our limbs, and you smile when I curl into your side in the mornings, but most of all, you love the way I feel when I’m in your arms.” The woman stated softly.

It was then Monty dropped his harsh composure and rushed to the woman, who fell into his embrace.

His heart felt complete again, as did his arms when they settled around her waist and her arms wrapped around his neck, her face pressed into his chest.

“Phoebe. Oh darling, Phoebe!” Monty found himself in tears again, and not long after he felt wet spots in his shirt, from Phoebe’s tears.

When he managed to regain his composure enough to release Phoebe, he made certain she sat down.

“The inspector said the mortician found you were pregnant.” Monty began, but seeing Phoebe’s eyes watery again he stopped himself.

“I was. I miscarried two weeks after the announcement of my death. I’m so sorry.” Phoebe whimpered, looking down as if that would disguise her tears from him.

“It’s not your fault, my darling. Do not blame yourself, not for one minute. I promise, we’ll have many children one day.” Monty pulled his handkerchief from within his suit pocket and handed it to his wife.

“I feel I owe you an explanation.” Phoebe laughed once as she said this, no doubt it was to make Monty sure she would be okay.

“You needn’t explain right now. Having you alive and with us again is plenty for me. Does the inspector know what happened?” Monty comforted his wife, sitting down next to her before pulling her into his lap and holding her close.

Phoebe whimpered out a yes, and Monty sent for Violet to escort the Countess upstairs and clean her up and settle her into their bedroom.

“ _After_ you’ve rested, come to Sibella’s room. I’ll be waiting.” Monty pressed a kiss to Phoebe’s forehead, going to the inspector to be filled in on what had gone on.

Monty refused to force Phoebe to recall the past years events before she was ready, but he had to know the people responsible were punished accordingly.

“That won’t be a problem, your lordship. All three men were killed in the fire.” Monty’s heart leapt again, for there would be no future incidents.

Phoebe’s alive, and home safe, and Monty supposed he must have felt as happy at one point in his life, but couldn’t recall when.

Giving instructions to his valet to fetch his out of mourning wardrobe and to meet him in his dressing room, Monty felt completely at ease.

Phoebe was home.

Home and safe.


	14. Disbelief

Of course, Monty hadn’t expected Sibella to react well, but he certainly hadn’t expected her to react so severely to the news of Phoebe’s return.

“How _dare_ you! You allow a stranger into this house who CLAIMS she is our Phoebe, and you don’t deny the fact of our arrangement! Monty, how could you!”

And that was just the beginning of Sibella’s tangent, she went on to say that it was just some beggar from another county looking for money who vaguely resembled the deceased Countess Navarro.

Monty stumbled and stuttered trying to explain what Phoebe had told him, things that only she would know, but Sibella wasn’t listening.

“Do you understand that if this beggar tells the papers about the arrangement, your reputation will be ruined! Not only that, but I will most certainly be hanged for sinful relations of the same sex! Have you misplaced your senses!” Sibella hissed, flinging a book from the shelf at him.

Monty dodged it, but only slightly.

“I want to see this beggar for myself! She can’t possibly be Phoebe!” Sibella demanded, storming over to Monty with a deadly glare.

“She’s resting, she’ll be asleep by now.” Monty tried to get her to calm down, but at this moment, no matter what he said, she was explosively angry.

“You have allowed a potential thief into this house, into your room, where all of Phoebe’s jewelry and her diamond tiara are stored. Was that really the wisest decision?!” She growled, they were now nose to nose and she made it very clear she did not believe Monty.

“Sibella.” Monty took Sibella’s hands in his, and led her to the bed where he sat her down and kneeled.

“I didn’t believe it was her at first either, but I can state here and now, that this is undeniably Phoebe. She knows about the murders, and what happened the night of the tenants ball, after the attacks. No one but our Phoebe would know those.” Monty explained, and this time she did not interrupt him.

Sibella’s eyes widened in understanding.

“I want to see her.” Sibella would not give up.

“She’s resting.” Monty reminded her.

Sibella threw her arms up in the air, the most unladylike Monty had ever seen her.

“For God’s sakes, Monty! I don’t care! We’ve been broken since the night Phoebe died, now you claim she’s alive and well and in this house, but you won’t allow me to see her! How can I be sure if I’m not permitted to see her!” Sibella was near tears now.

“If you could wait, I’ve told her to go get cleaned up, rest, and then to join us here.” Monty explained, pulling Sibella into his arms.

She rested her head on his shoulder, but Monty still felt her crying.

“You should rest too, you’ve had quite a day.” He pointed out, and she nodded, then lay back on the bed to nap.

However, nap she did not.

How could she? When all she needed to do was confirm this was the other half of her heart.

Monty snored next to her, and Sibella nearly laughed, he was content, so she ought to be.

But she knew she’d never be content without confirmation, Phoebe had meant so much to her, when she died, Sibella felt her heart tear into shreds, and the parts Monty was able to heal were heavily scarred.

Sibella’s eyes grew heavy, as she contemplated the past year, and before she knew it, she was drifting into sleep.


	15. Confirmation

When Sibella woke up, it was still dark, the room illuminated by the fire.

Monty snored next to her, in what had been his first full night of sleep since they received word Phoebe had died.

Sibella’s eyes widened.

Now he claimed Phoebe was alive, and in this castle, and after realizing this Sibella could not force herself to stay in bed.

Removing herself from Monty’s arms, Sibella’s heart raced in her chest, for if he woke up and caught her she’d be forced to wait until dawn to go see her.

She couldn’t manage that.

Once successfully out of bed, Sibella slipped into her slippers and silk dressing gown before exiting the room with great haste.

The room Monty and Phoebe had shared with her before the brunette’s death was only at the other end of the hall, but it seemed like it were across a large field.

Arriving at the door, Sibella did not knock, not wanting to make any noise that would give the alleged Countess time to flee, opting instead to turn the knob and enter.

The lights were still on, and the person Sibella sought was not in bed, but on the chaise with the leather book that Monty had used as a coping method.

“I wondered when I’d see you. I assume he’s told you.” A small brunette closed the book and stood.

Sibella’s jaw dropped, her mouth open to a degree that was most unladylike.

For in front of her, stood Phoebe.

Her heartbeat increased, her palms began to sweat and she blinked rapidly as tears started to form.

“Phoebe... Dear Lord, it is you!” Sibella squeaked, rushing to the girl and pulling her into her arms with such force both women lost their balance and wound up on the floor.

Phoebe smiled down at Sibella, and kissed her lips softly.

“Thank god. I was afraid you’d never recognize me and turn me out.” Phoebe admitted, tears sliding down her own cheeks.

“I didn’t believe Monty, when he said. We had quite a row, but it was all worth it to have you in my arms again.” Sibella blubbered, smiling despite her tears.

Phoebe stood, and offered Sibella her hand to help her stand.

It was then Sibella got the chance to examine Phoebe.

Her hair was longer by a good several inches, the braid now hitting her lower back with ease, and though it didn’t seem like someone had starved her, Sibella noticed the way Phoebe’s shoulders seemed to be slighter than they were before.

There was no sign of aging, but then again Phoebe had only been gone for one year, but Sibella noticed a faint scar in the crook of Phoebe’s elbow that had not been there before she disappeared.

Phoebe fidgeted under Sibella’s gaze, toying with her wedding ring.

“Oh darling.” Sibella breathed, kissing Phoebe with all of the pent up despair she had tried so valiantly to keep from Monty the previous day.

With no surprise, Phoebe deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms around Sibella’s neck loosely.

Sibella felt a dark haze dissipating as they kissed, the darkest year of her life vanishing with the feeling of Phoebe’s soft lips against her own.

When they broke apart, tear tracks ran down the length of Phoebe’s face and neck, but she smiled just the same.

Sibella helped her back to the chaise, settling around her as she picked up the book.

Opening the cover, Phoebe crinkled her nose.

“Would you be able to explain why my _favorite_ book smells like a tart’s boudoir?” Phoebe giggled, and Sibella laughed.

“I believe your dear husband used it as a coping method to burn you into his memory, every night he sprayed some of your perfume on the cover, since it already smelled of your hand oil. I shall let you read a bit, but after that I _must_ insist you sleep, you have quite the time coming up with the announcement of your situation and safe return. And I’ll not allow you to look tired for it.” Sibella purred, nuzzling her head into Phoebe’s shoulder.

“I suppose that’s fair, but my darling husband owes me a new copy. This one is positively soaked in belladonna perfume, more than is suitable for inside.” Phoebe teased.

“I shall let him know first thing, now read me something from your book.” Sibella smiled, and Phoebe obliged.

Needless to say, Monty was not surprised when he woke up alone, but he was surprised to see both women curled into each other on the chaise.

Fast asleep and content.


	16. Love and Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright y'all, I'm back at college so updates may take some time, but fear not! I'll keep writing!

After Monty woke them up, Phoebe decided to join them for breakfast in the dining room.

The butler smiled at her and gave her his usual greeting, and the footman on duty pulled out her chair as she loaded her plate and sat down.

Sibella and Monty were all smiles as they chattered lightly between bites, Monty winking at Phoebe when he thought no one was looking.

She blushed profusely, cheeks turning scarlet.

Phoebe didn’t want to appear improper, but she hadn’t been with her husband in a year, much less been _intimate_ with him.

Luckily for her, Monty seemed to know exactly what his wife needed, for after breakfast and before tea he whisked her to their bedroom, and they did not emerge until dinner.

As they lay in bed after dinner, limbs once more tangled together with Phoebe nestled snugly into Monty’s arms, Sibella bustled in.

Phoebe jumped slightly, but seeing it was only Sibella, relaxed back into Monty.

“We really ought to discuss the dinner to celebrate Phoebe’s return, the announcement will go out in the papers tomorrow morning, and not long after we’ll start getting inquiries. We need to plan.” Sibella demanded, throwing the Earl and Countess their robes respectively.

Phoebe groaned and buried her head into Monty’s shoulder.

She had expected it, and she had tried to mentally prepare herself for the coming ordeal, but the idea of being paraded in public again made Phoebe’s stomach turn circles.

Phoebe tried not to blink too quickly as Sibella started rattling on about the plans for the dinner, tried not to give any indication she was near tears or being violently ill or both.

Her palms were sweaty, and she chewed the inside of her lip in a desperate attempt to keep control.

Her chest felt tight at the memory of the last ball she had attended at High Hurst, the way she had been separated from her husband who swore to protect her, the way the cold blade had felt against Phoebe’s skin. She shuddered involuntarily, and Monty seemed to catch on.

“Sibella, stop. We can discuss this later, but right now we all need to sleep.” Monty chided.

A look of understanding, and then embarrassment crossed Sibella’s face, and she apologized profusely as she made her exit.

Once the heavy door had slammed shut, Monty rolled over to face his wife, who seemed to be losing control with every second that passed by.

“It’s alright, my darling. I promise everything will be alright.” Monty pressed a gentle kiss to Phoebe’s cheek, and the dam broke.

Tears flooded down the length of Phoebe’s face, and she sobbed into Monty’s shoulder.

Through her tears Monty could only manage to make out that she feared being cornered by someone at the social events she would be forced to go to, she could hardly refuse, she was a Countess after all and very few reasons were accepted to avoid attending countless dinners or balls.

Monty traced intricate patterns on the small of his wife’s bare back, allowing her to sob until she was unable to cry any further.

“I won’t let you be alone, not for one minute. No one is going to remove me from your side, and if anyone is overwhelming you at even the _slightest_ degree I will have them removed, or I will remove us _both_ from the situation.” Monty whispered into Phoebe’s ear.

“But what about brandy with the men? It is part of the host’s duty to see that all the men are offered brandy and cigars before they rejoin the women in the drawing room!” Phoebe hiccupped, clinging to her husband.

“We won’t do that, we’ll offer them cocktails in the drawing room and we’ll all go through together. I’ll find someone to sit next to you at dinner that we trust, someone who won’t pry or make you feel you must disclose more information than you’re willing to give. Have you anyone specific?” Monty assured Phoebe.

Phoebe was silent for a moment, and Monty almost thought she fell asleep, but was reassured she did not.

“Lord Grantham.” Phoebe whimpered, pressing her face into his chest and listening to his heartbeat.

Monty nodded, knowing Grantham rarely interrogated those who sat next to him at dinner, and they had tried to have him over so many times after Phoebe’s death, or what he thought had been Phoebe’s death.

The Earl decided he’d call the next day and give them two dates for two months’ time.

After all Phoebe needed time to prepare and readjust to her role in society.

 


	17. A Dinner Party

Thankfully, both Lord and Lady Grantham accepted, so that set Phoebe’s mind at ease through the incessant planning sessions Sibella was holding.

Even if the mere mention of the dinner made Phoebe’s palms sweat, fingers tremble, and stomach turn so hard she swore she would be ill.

All too quickly, the cursed day came, and Phoebe spent every available moment huddled near Monty.

He knew she was afraid, and honestly, he didn’t blame her, for he too feared the dinner.

After all, the last time they held an event of important magnitude before her kidnapping she had nearly been killed by someone trying to take revenge on her brother.

Even so, Monty had to be the strong one, for himself just as much as for Phoebe.

The Countess, in question, was leaning against him even as they sat in the drawing room, waiting for the butler to ring the dressing gong.

Monty tried to soothe his troubled wife, kissing her hand every few minutes, rotating that with a few chaste kisses to her lips.

“Everything is going to be alright, darling. You’ll see.” Sibella added, perched elegantly on her chair near them.

Phoebe tensed again, Monty had lost track of how many times it had happened before now, and the Earl tried to press another kiss to her lips, but she stood abruptly, saying she wished to lie down before the gong before rushing out of the room.

Monty stood, and glared at Sibella, who had been working on her embroidery project with such rigor for the last hour.

“Perhaps the announcement in the papers was quite enough.” He growled, noting the guilty look that crossed over Sibella’s features.

The blonde woman sighed as Monty took his leave, running after his wife.

When Monty entered their bedroom, Phoebe was nowhere to be found, the bed was empty, as well as her chaise.

Every single book was in its proper place on the shelf.

Fear gripped Monty almost as quickly as relief did when he heard Phoebe retching in the bathroom.

Slowly, Monty entered, and went over to his wife, noticing her body trembling even as she dry-heaved.

“We can cancel, if that’s what you’d like. I can tell them that you’re ill and in no state to welcome company.” Monty offered, rubbing his Countess’s back.

Phoebe looked up at her husband, eyes glittering with unshed tears, clinging to him with every fiber of her being.

“You don’t know how much I wish we could, but Sibella has worked too hard to arrange it all. I won’t let her efforts to be wasted.” She whispered, allowing Monty to carry her into the bedroom and settle them both on the chaise.

“For God’s sakes, Phoebe,” Monty used his hands on both sides of Phoebe’s face to bring her eyes to meet his. “Stop worrying about what Sibella has done, and worry about yourself. I don’t want you to cause more strife than necessary, you’re still recovering. Please, my love, I implore you to let me handle the dinner. You can stay in bed.”

Phoebe looked torn, she wanted to do what was easiest for them all, Monty’s plan.

However, Phoebe could hardly go about avoiding every social event for the rest of her life, a Countess never allowed fear to rule her.

“Darling, if I avoid this dinner, there will only be more talk. The only way to avoid people thinking I’m horribly maimed is to go downstairs, and perform my duties as your Countess.” Phoebe removed Monty’s hands from her head, bringing them down and lacing her fingers with his.

Monty sighed, of all the women he could have married, he chose the one that was as stubborn as Sibella could be.

A stubborn Countess, with a stubborn mistress, made for a long night ahead.

“Very well, but remember if there is one word that makes you fret, the one who spoke it shall be removed at once.” Monty had pressed yet another kiss to Phoebe’s forehead when he heard the dressing gong.

The Earl and Countess stood, and Monty promised he’d look in so they could go down and greet their guests together.

The moment the door shut, and Phoebe was all alone, she felt herself begin to tremble again.

Walking over to the mirror, Phoebe observed her reflection.

She had not changed much in the year she had been gone, but the look of terror in her eyes was new compared to the blissful gleam they had worn prior to her abduction.

Straightening her spine, and squaring her shoulders to their proper place Phoebe could almost see the woman she had been.

Phoebe did not turn her head as Violet entered with her dress, shoes, and jewelry, nor did she as she dressed.

“Milady? Are you quite alright?” the timid maid breathed, letting the Countess sit at the vanity before starting to undo her braid.

Phoebe looked at Violet through the glass’s reflection.

“Yes. Thank you.” Was all the Countess offered as a response.

Just as Violet had finished putting the final touches on Phoebe’s hair, Monty entered.

“Are you ready?” he inquired, holding out his hand to his wife.

Phoebe glanced at her reflection once more, she looked like the woman Phoebe used to know.

Smiling, Phoebe slipped on her gloves, and took Monty’s hand.

Upon their arrival in the drawing room, Phoebe was immediately swept up by Lady Grantham, who was so pleased to greet her friend.

Phoebe felt relaxed, seeing Monty smiling and glancing at her even during his conversation.

“I can’t tell you how pleased Lord Grantham and I were to read about your safe return. Are you adjusting well?” Lady Grantham inquired.

“Quite, Lord Navarro has me wrapped in silk and feathers. I daresay that he missed me in my absence.” Phoebe smiled, and Lady Grantham laughed.

“I think Lord Navarro did more than just miss you, he didn’t leave the castle once word got out. Lord Grantham and I tried our hardest to distract him from his grief, but he wrote back that he did not wish to live if you were not.” Lady Grantham smiled politely.

Phoebe’s heart soared within her chest, she had doubted that Monty mourned her too terribly, despite constant reassurance from Sibella.

To hear that he had, made her feel incredibly loved and warm

Phoebe opened her mouth to respond, but instead had to announce dinner as she saw the butler take his place by the door.

The dinner itself had gone smoothly, as Monty had predicted, Lord Grantham did not press her for details of her life in captivity, instead telling her tales of his eldest daughter, Mary.

From what he said, she was growing into quite the stubborn little thing, and had his servants wrapped around her little finger.

“And your middle child, Lady Edith?” Phoebe smiled, remembering the quiet little girl who toddled after her eldest sibling.

“We’re finding that Lady Edith is just as stubborn as Lady Mary. Of course, we suspect that Lady Sybil will be the opposite of both. She’s a loving baby, who doesn’t cry for anything apart from being fed or changed.” Lord Grantham laughed.

Phoebe tried not to look as devastated as she felt, her baby would have been of an age with Lady Sybil.

It still hurt, to remember the day she lost her child as vividly as she did, and with her husband unaware there even was a child at the time.

“I suspect that Lady Sybil will be a bright young lady as she grows.” Phoebe forced herself to smile, despite the pit of envy and self-loathing that threatened to cloud her mind.

As everyone had finished dessert, Monty joined Phoebe and led their guests to the drawing room for after dinner cocktails and conversation.

“How are you?” He whispered in her ear.

Phoebe smiled at him, despite what she felt inside. Lord Grantham had not meant any harm in their discussion of his three lovely children, but it didn’t stop Phoebe from feeling as though she had failed to produce the same happy life for Monty.

Monty seemed satisfied with her smile in lieu of an answer, and went to speak with Sibella.

Slowly, the dinner party came to a close, the last guests leaving close to midnight, and Monty scooped an exhausted Phoebe into his arms to carry her upstairs.

After they had changed into their nightclothes, Monty pulled Phoebe close.

“Would you say tonight was a success?” The Earl inquired, running his fingers through the cascade of Phoebe’s hair.

“Mm. I forgot how tiring this sort of thing can be.” Phoebe sighed, allowing herself to relax fully into her husband.

“Are you too tired for _another_ matter?” Monty murmured, his hot breath tickling Phoebe’s neck.

The Countess rolled over to face him, kissing him deeply as her answer.

After they had finished, and Phoebe lay sleeping in Monty’s embrace, Monty allowed himself to think of the year without her.

He had been a mere shell of the man he was when she was near, and while he knew that Phoebe still blamed herself for the loss of their child, Monty also knew there would be plenty of time for children later.

For now, all that he cared about was that they were together again.

How could he ask for more?


	18. Letters

As usual, Phoebe was the first to rise apart from the servants.

She yawned as she stretched her arms overhead, then pushed the blankets aside and slid out of the bed.

Padding over to the window, Phoebe allowed herself to peek out through the sliver between the curtains before quickly crossing to her boudoir and ringing for Violet so she could dress.

Hearing her husband’s snores from the next room, Phoebe felt tempted to return to the bed, and stay there all day with her husband, but she was expecting a call from Lady Grantham to talk dates for a hunt at their home, and she had neglected Sibella the previous day.

No doubt the blonde woman would pout if Phoebe didn’t spend some time alone with her that day.

Violet entered and helped her mistress into a simple lavender day dress, and arranged her hair into the braid she so preferred in her downtime, then exited without a word.

Phoebe found that to be odd, as Violet was normally rather chipper and bright, even in the early hours.

Phoebe released a sigh as she exited her boudoir and made her way into the library, to her usual chair, where she curled up into a ball with her latest book.

The Countess had read several new chapters by the time she heard the telltale clicking on the floor that announced Sibella’s arrival.

“Good morning, darling! How are you?” Sibella pressed a kiss to Phoebe’s lips, smiling when Phoebe did not allow her to pull away in favor of another kiss.

“I’m alright, are you hungry?” Phoebe inquired, rising and stretching her legs, relishing in the way the blood rushed into her feet and tingled.

Sibella linked her arm with Phoebe’s, and replied that she was simply famished.

As the two lovers walked toward the dining room, Phoebe’s eyes roamed their surroundings.

More specifically, she tried to remember the way things had looked before she had been taken, and wondered whether they had changed much in the time she had been gone.

A cruel laugh echoed faintly in her memory, and Phoebe tried valiantly to push it away, to tell the voice it couldn’t hurt her any longer.

“M’lady? Are you quite alright?” the butler inquired, snapping Phoebe out of her thoughts.

Phoebe blinked twice, noticing that she had simply been standing near the food, staring blankly in the direction of the windows.

“Yes, of course.” Phoebe forced herself to smile, despite her heart pounding within her chest and her stomach turning circles much like the night before.

As Phoebe loaded her plate with some simpler foods, not hungry enough to justify loading her plate with more food than she felt she could eat.

Still, she smiled as Sibella began rambling on about some new designer that came highly recommended in London society, claiming that Phoebe simply had to go with her for a fitting.

The butler stepped forward, and presented Phoebe with a letter on a tray.

Phoebe tried to steady her hands as she picked up the letter opener, and made quick work of the envelope, placing the opener back on the tray before unfolding the paper inside.

Phoebe felt ill, her mind raced as she tried to take in the words on the paper, her breathing shallow and uneven.

“When did this arrive?” Phoebe’s voice turned sharp and cold, causing Sibella to look up from her plate quickly.

“This morning, M’lady. By way of personal messenger.” The butler replied, looking puzzled.

Phoebe’s mind began to race as she pushed her chair away from the table, practically running out of the dining room, with Sibella hot on her heels.

Sibella watched the Countess began to pace circles around the hall, chest heaving, fingers white from being clenched so tightly.

“Phoebe.” Sibella tried to pull her lover from her thoughts, to no avail.

The small brunette continued to work herself into hysterics, starting to hyperventilate as she lost control over her own breath.

Sibella quickly sent a footman for Monty, stopping Phoebe in her tracks and holding her in place.

“Phoebe, look at me. Listen to me, you need to calm down, darling. Please!” Sibella whimpered, she had never seen Phoebe like this.

Phoebe’s lips were quivering, eyes not focusing on Sibella, her chest heaving with effort.

“Phoebe! What’s happened, what’s the matter?” Monty was panicking, flying down the stairs in record time to reach them, taking Sibella’s place.

“I don’t know! She seemed preoccupied at breakfast, and then this letter came for her and she began behaving oddly!” Sibella bent to pick up the crumpled scrap of paper that Phoebe had dropped at some point in her panic, smoothing it out and starting to read it.

Sibella felt her blood rush to her feet, and her stomach started to twist dangerously.

“Monty.” Sibella’s tone was grave.

Monty quickly scooped Phoebe into his arms, rushing up to the gallery with her, and into their bedroom with Sibella just behind him.

Phoebe hadn’t calmed down, her vision starting to blur because of her air-starved lungs and corset, her fingers gripping Monty’s sleeves so tightly she could no longer feel them.

Monty wasted no time in practically ripping her blouse off, and turning Phoebe onto her stomach so that he could remove her corset.

His fingers fumbled with the ties, so much that Sibella stepped in and made short work of them, slinging the offending garment off the bed and out of sight.

Monty turned Phoebe back over, pulling her close and trying to slow his breathing, hoping his wife would copy it.

“What did the note say, Sibella?” he demanded after a moment.

Sibella tried to steady her voice.

_“You ruined my life, don’t think I’d allow you such an easy way out. None of those bodies were mine, I am still alive, and you’re going to pay very soon. Enjoy the time you’ve spent with your husband, because the next time he sees you, you’ll be dead and with your child”_

Phoebe grew visibly more distressed as Sibella read, sobbing, clinging to her husband as though she’d disappear if she did not.

Monty too, was distressed, but trying to calm his wife was his priority.

He ran his fingers through Phoebe’s hair while repeating that he would never let anyone harm her, not as long as blood coursed through his veins. He held her close and allowed her to sob into his chest, peppered her tear-stained cheeks with kisses, rocked her gently in his arms, anything to reassure his wife, his Phoebe that she would be safe.

“Darling, we need to know who sent this. If we know, we can prepare and you’ll be safe.” Sibella murmured after a moment.

Phoebe let out several squeaks of protest, pulling Monty as close as she could, praying he would tell Sibella to stop interrogating her.

But Monty seconded Sibella’s request.

“No more secrets, darling. We’ve seen what keeping secrets can do, please.” Monty whispered.

Phoebe sniffled as she sat up, looking at her husband and lover through puffy eyes.

“I don’t know what good it’ll do. The man who sent it, the man who… took me, everyone thinks he’s dead.” Phoebe took in a shaky breath, eyes watering again.

Monty placed a comforting hand on the small of her back, an action that gave Phoebe the slightest bit of courage.

“His name, Phoebe.” Sibella breathed, unable to make more sound.

“Fredrick Crogan, he was courting me before Henry died, before I met you. He had proposed to me, he wanted me to save him from financial ruin… The papers said he committed suicide just after our marriage announcement, but I got a letter from him, posted before his death. He threatened that I should be very careful, else he’d have his chance.” Phoebe took quite some time to explain, having to stop frequently to wipe away tears.

“What did he do to you, Phoebe?” Monty inquired softly, noting the way she flinched.

“At first, nothing. I sat in this horrid basement for two weeks, I got one meal a day, a small cup of water... After that, he would come in and use horse whips on my back, so hard I’d bleed. I begged for our child’s safety above mine, I told him that when you found out what he did, you’d kill him. He didn’t care, instead switching to holding my head underwater until I passed out, or he’d stop me from sleeping until I collapsed… One day, he injected me with something, I don’t know what it was, or how he achieved it, but it made me very ill. I had a fever for a week, vomiting, chills, my body felt like it was on fire, and at some point, I lost the baby. You know the rest.” Phoebe hiccupped.

Sibella’s eyes were wide, her hand clasped firmly over her mouth to keep Phoebe from seeing it was hanging open in despair.

Then a thought struck her.

”The police said that all four of those monsters died in the fire.” Sibella stated after a moment.

Monty looked at his wife, obviously confused.

”I never saw the bodies removed from the house. I assumed the four who died were my captors, three of them were. The fourth, I think might have been a servant. As soon as I said I was the Countess, they brought me straight here.” Phoebe explained, nestling further into Monty.

Monty gave his wife a slight squeeze, laying her back and pulling the blankets over the three of them.

“He won’t hurt you. Neither of you are to be out of my sight from this moment forward, I won’t risk it. When this ruffian makes his appearance, I’ll be right there to protect you.” Monty vowed, kissing his wife.

Neither of the three could place when they had fallen asleep, but at some point, they had done so, all curled into each other.

Monty and Sibella held Phoebe securely between them, both wanting her to feel safe and warm.

Phoebe didn’t mind, she never wanted to be away from them again.

Not ever.


	19. Fredrick Crogan

Naturally, when Monty woke the next morning, he began making plans.

Posting more guards around the edges of the castle, telling the staff that the Countess would see no one unaccompanied.

He would be damned if Phoebe got hurt on his watch.

Several weeks had passed, with not the slightest sign of Fredrick Crogan, which was a relief to Monty, but he would not allow himself to slack.

Now, Monty was sitting at his desk scrawling his signature on a document, frustrated by the entire situation.

The clicking of heels announced his wife and lover, and he turned to greet them with a smile.

“How are you, my darlings?” He inquired, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair.

Sibella smiled, but Phoebe seemed absorbed in thought, sitting down on her chaise as though she were in a daze, fingers tracing a lace overlay on her skirt, biting on her bottom lip.

Signs Monty recognized as nervousness, which did not ease his own worries.

  
Pushing back his chair, Monty rushed to Phoebe’s side, grasping her hand in his and kissing it gently.

“Phoebe, darling. If something has upset or concerned you, please do let me know. I don’t want you to worry for even a minute.” Monty implored, rubbing the pad of his thumb over his wife’s knuckles.

Sibella gave Phoebe a soft, knowing smile.

“I’m expected not to worry, but how can I pretend that everything is fine when I know very well in a matter of seconds everything could crumble beneath me?” Phoebe whispered, tears beginning to well up in her eyes, subduing the blue that Monty so loved.

“What are you talking about, Phoebe?” Monty pressed, squeezing her hand briefly.

Phoebe turned to face him, her hands finding their way to his shoulders so she could support herself on him, her chin dipped down slightly as she struggled to bring her eyes to meet his.

“I’m pregnant, Monty.” She whispered, taking in a sharp breath which lead her to break in his arms.

Monty’s heart skipped a beat, this was wonderful news, of course.

However, now he was even more determined to protect his wife and their child at all costs, for Fredrick Crogan had been the reason Phoebe had to suffer through the loss of their first child, and Monty refused to make her go through it again.

Phoebe sniffled into his chest as he kissed the top of her head, the soft, sweet smelling hair tickling his nose as he did so.

“It’s quite alright, my sweet Phoebe. I’m so pleased we’re having a baby, and I promise, no harm will come to either of you. Not as long as I’m alive.” He reassured his wife, pressing kisses to her cheeks until she finally lifted her face.

“I’m scared, Monty.” Phoebe brought one hand to her abdomen, the other to cup his cheek and pull him close until their lips met.

”Don’t be frightened, my love. This is wonderful news, and I promise I’ll protect you. All three of you.” Monty mumbled against Phoebe’s lips, stealing another kiss.

When the Earl and Countess pulled away, Sibella was grinning brilliantly.

“Can I decorate the nursery, oh please?” She whined, clasping her hands near her heart and batting her eyelashes.

Phoebe laughed, a sound that brought joy to Monty’s heart.

“I don’t know, darling. Do you think she’ll go overboard if we say yes?” Phoebe whispered loudly, with every intention for Sibella to hear her.

Monty chuckled, pulling Phoebe so that she lay on top of him.

“I daresay she will, but that means our child shall be the envy of all.” Monty returned Phoebe’s volume.

Sibella crossed her arms with a playful huff, her signature pout taking its place on her face.

“For those remarks, neither of you shall be kept informed of the progress.” Sibella warned, but settled herself on the floor in front of them.

As Monty held his wife, he reflected on the fact that he had to take extra precautions in order to keep his wife, lover, and child safe. The last thing he would allow was Fredrick Crogan to touch a single hair on any of their heads.

Months passed, and as they did Phoebe grew into the late stages of pregnancy, and anxiousness.

While she tried to keep herself composed, as she grew closer to being due Monty noticed an ever-present fear in her eyes.

She spent most of her days confined to her bed, her tiny frame unable to stably support the added weight of the baby, with one arm wrapped securely around her protruding abdomen, and one hand firmly clasped in Monty’s.

It had been his insistence that she remain in bed until the baby was born, afraid that she would lose her balance and hurt herself, but as she came closer to the birth of their child, she had begged him not to let her be alone.

Sibella had set to the task of redoing the nursery, spending most of her days within it, observing the work being done and adding to the list of tasks simultaneously.

Phoebe was grateful, the room had been allowed to fall into quite the state when Adalbert had been the Earl, prior to Sibella the room would not have been fit for a dog to live in, much less a fragile baby, but with Sibella at the helm of the project, neither Phoebe or Monty doubted it would be the epitome of luxury.

Phoebe had just finished reading one of the sonnets from her new book to Monty, who lay next to her with one arm wrapped firmly around his wife, smiling up at her with awe in his eyes when Sibella had bustled in and announced that the nursery was finally finished.

“That’s lovely, darling. I’m so glad.” Phoebe smiled, turning slightly to face the blonde who had paint in her hair and the biggest smile Phoebe had ever seen her wear.

Monty chuckled to himself.

“And what is so funny about that, Montague.” Sibella tapped her foot against the floor as she awaited an answer, hands finding their way to her hips.

“Nothing, darling! We just feared that the nursery would still be incomplete by the time the baby’s born. Isn’t that right, Phoebe?” Monty flinched.

Phoebe scoffed, swatting at him with her book.

“Speak for yourself! I had complete faith.”

“Won’t you come see it?” Sibella smiled and bounced giddily on her toes, hands clasped in front of her.

Monty looked to Phoebe.

“I’m not permitted to leave the bed, else I would. I’m rather curious.” Phoebe sighed, poking Monty with one finger, prodding her husband to go with the blonde.

Monty paled at the very idea of leaving Phoebe alone, and she knew it.

Phoebe stuck out her bottom lip, batting her eyelashes at him.

“Oh, please do go and see it! I’m bedridden and one of us should get to see it before the baby’s born!” When Phoebe’s pleas didn’t work, she resorted to tears.

  
Monty had scrambled to dry them, promising her that he would go see the nursery if that’s what she really wanted, but explaining he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her on her own.

“Please? I promise, I can look after myself for the two minutes it’ll take you to get there and back.” Phoebe sniffed, pregnancy hormones working their magic.

Monty pressed a kiss to her cheek, then another to her protruding abdomen, making her promise to ring or shout the moment she felt anything like contractions or fear and they’d be there in a heartbeat.

Phoebe had smiled, promising to do exactly that, but the moment the door was shut, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

If she was honest, she had been feeling her stomach tighten periodically since that morning, but she didn’t dare confess this to Monty before she was sure anything would come of it, after all.

She had experienced two false alarms prior to now, and knew Monty would panic considerably.

Phoebe sighed to herself, running a swift hand around her swollen stomach before turning over to place her book on her side table.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of the very man Monty was trying to protect her from.

“Lock the door. If you scream I shall shoot.” He hissed under his breath, pointing his gun directly at Phoebe.

Somehow, Phoebe didn’t make a sound, instead making her way out of the bed and locking her bedroom door, sealing her husband and lover away from her.

Away from the man that was going to kill her.

As Phoebe took a step toward her bed, a sharp pain wrapped around her abdomen, nearly bringing her to the floor as she gasped and gripped her nightgown in her fingers.

The delight on Fredrick Crogan’s face nearly made her sick, his yellowed and decaying teeth a stark contrast against his chapped lips.

“Well, well, well. Little Phoebe D’ysquith’s gone into labor, has she? What an unexpected delight.” He sneered, pulling her to her feet by the arm and pushing her back toward the bed.

“Please, I can give you money if that’s what you want. I can give you property, a good career, anything, but please, _please_ don’t hurt my baby!” Phoebe began to cry, a result of pain and fear mixing in her brain.

Fredrick let out a ghastly noise, one that didn’t resemble a laugh, but was obviously meant to serve as one.

“Oh, it’s far too late for pleas and bribes. In case you haven’t noticed, the only thing I want is for you and that brat to die. I want the great and powerful Lord Navarro to realize all his methods were unsuccessful, to cradle you and that babe in his arms after he realizes he couldn’t save you. I want him to sob into your lifeless body and curse my name at the top of his lungs.” The crazed man surmised, running a finger over the top of Phoebe’s vanity, inspecting it for dust once he had run out of space.

Another contraction made Phoebe whimper, eyes squeezed shut.

“Phoebe, darling? Are you alright?” Monty inquired from the other side of the door, knocking gently.

Phoebe heard the worry in his voice, but replied that she was just fine, and wished to get some rest unaccompanied.

Still, the handle turned slightly, but could not open.

“You sound pained, sweet pet. Will you unlock the door so we can see for ourselves that you’re okay?” Sibella took over, and Phoebe quickly replied that she was fine and that she didn’t want Monty to spend all his time before he became a father with her.

“Phoebe, please let us in. I don’t mind, it sets my mind at ease to be able to see you safe and well.” Monty begged.

“No, Montague. I’d like some time to myself before our child is born, now I’m sure Sibella can entertain you for a while.” Phoebe replied sharply, feeling the start of a contraction.

Monty sighed, but did as he was asked.  
Fredrick chuckled darkly, low enough for Phoebe to hear but not Monty.

“Why are you doing this?” she hissed, wrapping both of her arms around her stomach.

Fredrick grinned.

“Why am I doing this? I thought that much was quite clear, you were always a bright girl, tell me. Does pain play into asking stupid questions? I’m doing this because after you refused me in favor of that man down the hall, I was destitute. I lost everything because of you, my home, my job, my sense of duty and accomplishment. I spent countless evenings pouring gravel and packing it in, only to get enough money to not have to resort to stealing for my meals, I was forced to sleep in dark alleys, prone to the elements. What hurt the most, however, is the way the rest of my family turned against me. No one spoke to me, they didn’t dare associate themselves with the lowest of the low, despite them being in the working class. My sister was forced to go into prostitution because of you, selling her virtue for a few paltry coins to throw at shopkeepers who’d not serve her. The final straw was when I found my sister dead in our alley, stabbed by a man who’d paid to use her. I vowed that day that I would make you pay for forcing us into that life, and here we are.” He shrieked, Phoebe winced.

She heard the footsteps running down the hallway, frantic and rushed, then the banging on the door.

“Phoebe! Unlock this door at _once_!” Her husband’s voice was thunderous as he slammed his fist against the door.

“She’ll do no such thing, Navarro. The moment little Phoebe D’ysquith gets out of her bed, I’ll shoot her and she’ll never deliver that babe. Oh, didn’t you know? Your _precious_ little Countess is going to give birth soon, and when she does I’ll kill that brat of hers, make her scream and cry, plead to save the life of her child, but after the babe is dead I’ll strangle her. The last thing she’ll ever see is her dead baby.” He squawked sadistically, clapping his hands in unadulterated glee.

The banging on the door intensified, Monty slamming his shoulder against the wood trying to break through.

“No, no!” Phoebe screamed as Crogan stalked forward and tried to look beneath her nightgown, she kicked at him, striking him in his jaw.

“Don’t touch her, you godless bastard!” Monty roared, rage washing over his entire body.

Crogan held his jaw with one hand, and slapped Phoebe with his other.  
Phoebe shrieked in pain, both from contractions and the hit, which only made Monty angrier.

“Phoebe, Phoebe!” Sibella’s cries echoed between the thud of her lover’s attempts to break through.

In the hall, Sibella grabbed Monty by his collar and pulled him a slight way away from the door.

“Listen to me, listen carefully. He hasn’t realized that your dressing room is connected, if you can get in without any noise, you can get the upper hand.” Sibella whispered into his ear.

A look of understanding crossed Monty as he pulled Sibella into a deep, thankful kiss.

“Be careful, please. I couldn’t bear to have either of you hurt.” Sibella whispered, going back to the door to try and speak to Phoebe.

Monty stalked down the hall, rage billowing through every fiber of his being, slamming into the weapons room.

He almost laughed as he looked at all the weapons his ancestors had used to defend High Hurst, remembering the way Adalbert had boasted of defending the castle and the honor of those who lived within it.

Now he was called upon for the same task, and wondered which of the weapons would be most effective in vanquishing a man who threatened the life of his wife and child.

Phoebe’s screams echoed through the castle, several servants rushing past.

“I’ve always thought the swords to be too risky. Suppose he shoots before you can attack?” Miss Shingle’s voice came from behind him, making the Earl jump.

“Quickly, what do you suggest? Every second that man is with Phoebe she is in more danger!” Monty gripped Shingle’s shoulders, trying his hardest not to shake her for all it was worth.

“I think the very gun Lord Adalbert wielded the night he died, it’s quite quick, and has little chance of error.”

Monty grabbed the gun, and raced to the door to his dressing room, opting to leave the heavy door open so he had little chance of being discovered by the noise of it closing behind him.

The servants had gathered with Sibella in the hall, Sibella pressing her ear to the door in attempts to discern even a single word from between Phoebe’s pained shrieks and panicked screams.

His heart began to pound in his chest as he removed his shoes and stalked closer to the door that connected the room to Phoebe’s.

He heard Phoebe pleading for her child’s safety, telling Crogan he could do whatever he wished with her, but their child was an innocent being, had didn’t deserve to be murdered for the sins of its mother. Punctuated by a grunt, pant, or shriek as her body tried to bring their child forward.

Monty placed one hand on the knob, waiting for Phoebe’s next scream to turn it and enter the room.

Crogan was next to Phoebe, grubby fingers gripping the space just under her jaw, spitting and telling her to shut up, Phoebe had tears in her eyes, her bottom lip was bleeding but she continued to bite down on it.

Her chest heaved as she tried to regulate her breathing, sweat beginning to show through her nightgown.

She looked so small and helpless on that bed.

“Step away from my wife.” Monty growled, aiming his gun at Crogan, who grinned and pressed a kiss to Phoebe’s cheek.

She squeaked, trying to shift away from him, but was forced to stay still by another pain, gripping the bedsheets with such force her knuckles turned white, eyes squeezed shut, panting.

“Get away from her!” Monty fiddled with the trigger, Crogan raising his own gun as he took two steps to his left.

Monty clenched his jaw, he didn’t want to risk the man killing Phoebe, but he also couldn’t bear the idea of Phoebe watching him get shot with the agony she was already experiencing.

“I can’t say I won’t enjoy watching you die. The man who took Phoebe away from me, the man who caused the woman I was going to marry to abandon me and force me into the streets. The only thing that makes this moment sweeter, is that Phoebe will watch her husband and child die, before I mercifully give her the same fate-.”

Crogan’s speech was cut short by a gunshot, Monty having pulled the trigger before Crogan dared to take the chance.

The beastly man fell to the floor, clutching his chest as Monty strode forward and kicked Crogan’s gun across the room. The Earl knelt and closed his fingers around Crogan’s windpipe, squeezing and watching with satisfaction the way the man’s eyes started to bulge, pupil widening considerably as his air supply was cut off.

Crogan began to convulse in a fashion Monty later related to a fish pulled above the surface of the water, but he did not release the man until he had stopped fighting and lay in the shadow of death for minutes.

“Monty.” Phoebe panted, frightened out of her mind.

It hadn’t occurred to him that she couldn’t see what was happening from the bed, so she had no idea whether it was her husband approaching death or not.

Monty scrambled to her side, grasping her hand and kissing her cheek quickly as she nuzzled her head into his shoulder.

“Are you alright, darling? God, I’m so frightfully sorry! That beast should never have made it this far, I never should have gone to see the nursery.” Monty apologized profusely, kissing a desperate trail from her forehead to her cheek.

Phoebe grunted, panting after a moment.

“That’s all very well, but could you kindly send for the doctor? Your child is very eager to meet their father.” Phoebe panted quickly, throwing her head back onto her pillow as yet another pain took her.

Monty’s eyes widened as he realized that Phoebe, indeed, was very much in the throes of childbirth and from the looks of it, had been before Crogan had shown his face.

Monty sprinted to the door and opened it, shouting for the servants to fetch the doctor.

Everyone scrambled, servants scattering through the castle to their respective positions, while Sibella bustled through to the bedroom and positioned herself next to Phoebe, taking a cloth from the drawer and wiping the sweat off of her brow.

“Shh. It’s alright, everything’s alright. You are so strong, my beloved Phoebe. So strong, and so brave, you’re going to be alright.” Sibella murmured, dipping the cloth in a small bowl of water and pressing it to Phoebe’s forehead in attempts to cool her.

“It hurts.” Phoebe whimpered, tears dripping down her cheeks as Sibella took another cloth and pressed it to Phoebe’s bleeding lip, kissing her cheek simultaneously.

“I know, my beloved. I know, but think of this, soon we’ll have our child.” Monty whispered, taking the bloodied cloth from Sibella and dipping it in some water, then replacing it on her lip which was still bleeding.

The pair did their best to comfort Phoebe as much as possible, but when the doctor arrived, he swiftly ushered Monty out of the room with the claim that a birth was no place for a man.

Monty pressed his back against the wall across from the door, sliding down and resting his head on his knees.

How many times could he risk Phoebe’s life? Did he want her to die with his name on her lips?

As her husband and as the Earl, he had a duty to protect her from those who would do her harm, and he had failed multiple times.

Crogan had been removed from the room while they waited for the doctor to arrive for Phoebe, but Monty wished that he had lived so that he could make the man pay, suffer for all the havoc he had brought upon their lives.

His fingers clung to the cloth, still damp from his efforts to bring Phoebe even the slightest comfort, and his eyes watered as he reflected on the fact that he had allowed Phoebe to suffer alone, she had been in pain and he hadn’t noticed. He allowed himself to admire the nursery, allowed himself to leave Phoebe at Crogan’s mercy.

Agonized screams came from the room he had been barred from, partnered with soothing words from Sibella, making his heart pound erratically.

How did men survive being kept away from their wives? Especially given all the risks with childbirth.

His throat tightened as he choked back a sob.

Phoebe was so slight, and Crogan had distressed her, surely that would have some effect on the delivery of their child.

Would he lose Phoebe even though he had just killed a man to ensure her safety?

Monty recalled the night Phoebe had first been attacked, the way she looked so lifeless as she lay against the sheets of the bed, her skin ghostly pale, and cool to the touch. The way her body was bruised and cut to shreds, the way the bandages covered nearly every visible inch of her arms.

He hated seeing her like that, but seeing her in pain was far worse.

Another scream made him flinch.

“Beg pardon, milord, but the runners would like a word with you.” The butler spoke hesitantly.

Monty’s head shot up to meet his gaze.

“They wanted me to clarify that your lordship isn’t in any trouble. They simply want your account of what happened with Mr. Crogan.” The butler stated again.

Phoebe screamed again, both men flinched.

Monty sighed, but stood and followed the man.

The very least he could do for Phoebe was make certain the reports were correct.


	20. The Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this! I'd never dreamed anyone would be interested in my writing, so to have such lovely and wonderful responses to my fic was something unexpected, but appreciated nevertheless! I'll be honest, I had a hard time grappling with the idea of this story coming to a close, but I suppose it's on to the next! I'd like to extend a very special thank you to ComingAndGoingByBubble, for putting up with me and being there to bounce ideas off of, along with being a stellar person and writer! Seriously, check her out, I really must insist! I'd also like to extend a thank you to my friends on Tumblr, who have been so supportive of me through this entire process. Lastly, I want to thank each and every person who'd given my fic a read, I'd never have uploaded this without the support from each and every one of you, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart!  
> _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Hours later, Monty had finished with the runners, and had made his way into the drawing room to try and fortify himself after the day’s ordeals.

He could hear Phoebe’s screams even in the servant’s hall, each one chilling him to the bone, making his eyes flit to the stairs in worry.

The Earl found himself slowly descending into panic, particularly when the screams ceased and silence fell over the castle.

Monty wanted nothing to run to the gallery, and break through the door to his wife, but he couldn’t force himself to move, opting to crash into his desk chair.

His heart pounded in his chest as minutes passed with thick silence, he longed for some news, any news. Some news was almost certainly better than knowing nothing and allowing his imagination to run rampant.

_“Is Phoebe alright? Is the baby? She’s so slight, and has been through so much. If there were complications, would Phoebe be alright? Would we lose a second child?”_ Monty thought, clenching his fists so tightly his fingernails dug into his palms.

Forcing himself upright, Monty crossed to the decanter housing his port, pouring himself a snifter and swallowing it in one swift motion.

The clicking of heels started down the hall, Monty’s eyes widened as he stared at the door in anticipation of Sibella.

The door opened and Monty ran to the blonde woman, gripping her in his arms tightly, breathing in the scent of her rose perfume.

“Darling, you’re hurting me.” Sibella wheezed, crushed within his strong embrace.

Monty released her with a soft apology, kissing her cheek as she straightened out her dress.

“How’s Phoebe?” He inquired, unable to stop himself from asking any longer.

Sibella laughed softly, caressing his cheek with her hand.

“She’s okay. It was hard on her, I’ll say that, but she’s okay. She wants to see you.” Sibella replied, going to sit down on the couch for a moment.

Monty perked up at the news of his wife, straightening his jacket and coat as he walked to the door.

“You will shower and change before you go see her, you’re covered in blood and sweat, and I’ll not let Phoebe see you like that.” Sibella reprimanded, and Monty sighed.

Of course, he did what he was told, taking some time to scrub the blood from his hands and wash his hair, then dressing in one of his day suits.

Monty heard only the crackling of the fire from outside of the bedroom, and pausing a moment, he knocked softly on the heavy wooden door.

The same door he had been locked out with just hours ago.

For a moment no sound came from the room, which prompted Monty to think Phoebe had fallen asleep, but just before the Earl turned around to go back to his dressing room, he heard his wife’s voice bidding him to enter.

Monty smiled immediately when he spotted Phoebe, who looked flushed and exhausted, but happy despite all the trials of that day.

“How are you?” Monty inquired, pulling up a chair next to the bed and holding out his hand for her to take.

Phoebe yawned, then laughed slightly.

“Tired, uncomfortable, but happy. So incredibly happy.” Phoebe murmured, placing her hand gently into his.

Monty kissed her hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand as she settled back against her pillows.

“So, what happens now?” Monty teased, eliciting a small giggle out of his wife.

Phoebe looked upwards as she feigned thought.

“Well, Nanny will bring the baby here in about an hour, so you can meet your heir. In the meantime, we could ring for tea, and I’d like very much for you to come and lay with me.” Phoebe teased.

Monty wasted no time in arranging himself on the bed, careful not to jostle Phoebe too much, and pulled the loop which made the bell ring downstairs.

“I was so afraid I was going to lose you.” Monty murmured, pulling Phoebe close without hurting her, kissing the top of her head.

“I know. I felt your fear with every fiber in my body, but you should know that I’ll never leave you again.” Phoebe allowed her neck to relax, the tension from her straining to look upright.

“Did the doctor say anything before he left?” Monty inquired, noticing his wife slipping further into sleep.

“Just to spend the next week or so in bed, not to do anything too strenuous, and to call him immediately if I feel searing pain.” Phoebe mumbled, eyes dipping shut.

Monty smiled, seeing his wife falling asleep in his arms.

“Go to sleep, my love. When you wake up, Nanny will bring in the baby and we’ll get you something to eat.” Monty prompted.

It wasn’t long before Phoebe’s breathing slowed, then evened out as she fell into a deep sleep, and well-earned if Monty had to bet on it.

As his wife slept, Monty’s eyes roamed her body.

She had been changed into a new nightgown, and there was still a slight swell to her abdomen, even without the baby taking up space, Monty figured that would disappear eventually. Her hair had been braided back, no longer falling in loose waves like it did before he had been kicked out of the room.

Her eyes fluttered, even as she slept soundly within his embrace, and her chest rose and fell steadily, every now and then, a small noise would leave her lips.

God, what he would be if he didn’t have her.

If he lost Phoebe, he’d fall apart beyond repair. She was the glue that bound him and Sibella to their new way of life, she handled the affairs of the house with ease, and didn’t once ask to be recognized for it.

The village, too, would mourn her fiercely.

The children’s orphanage was Phoebe’s most passionate project, and the Countess often went in for a small amount each day to read to the children. She also made sure that each child got something to call their own for the Christmas holiday, something Sibella had continued the year she was gone.

Monty’s eyes continued to skim over his wife’s form as she slept, noting the peaceful expression settling over her facial features.

Giving her a slight squeeze, Monty buried his face into her hair, taking in the scent of lavender and sweat.

Monty wasn’t sure how long he lay there, holding her securely, and feeling such relief, but at some point, Phoebe’s eyes fluttered open, and she rolled back over to face him.

“Hello.” She quipped, allowing a smile to play on her lips.

“Hello there, my dearest one.” Monty chuckled, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to her lips.

Phoebe grinned, snuggling further into his chest, but pulling back slightly when her stomach rumbled rather loudly.

“Are you hungry?” Monty teased, relishing in the way her cheeks colored in embarrassment.

Phoebe glanced down, then back up at her husband to reply that she was famished.

Monty reached over and pulled the bell loop before sitting himself up and helping Phoebe do the same, settling her back against the mountain of pillows at the head of the bed.

A soft knock on the door startled them both, but when the door opened it was Sibella, holding a tray.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I sent Violet to bed, she was looking rather skittish and afraid.” Sibella smiled.

Phoebe laughed along with Monty, who had a hard time finding his composure with the fact that Sibella could dismiss servants and they never blinked once at her demands.

“Well, don’t just stand there holding that heavy tray! Please come in.” Phoebe prompted, eyeing the array of food.

“I hope you’ll forgive Phoebe, she’s rather ravenous.”

Sibella placed the tray over Phoebe’s lap, swatting Monty the very second her hands weren’t occupied.

“She has every right to be ravenous, so I’ll kindly ask you to stop teasing her!” Sibella reprimanded, pressing a kiss to Phoebe’s cheek.

Phoebe grinned triumphantly as she took a sandwich from the tray, taking a bite for herself before offering a bite to Monty, who refused it.

Sibella had left the door open, and when Nanny entered she looked mortified at her interruption.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, your Ladyship, I can bring the baby back later if that would be more convenient.” Nanny stumbled trying to keep herself proper.

Phoebe moved the tray to the side, smiling kindly.

“No, it’s quite alright. I think it’s rather unfair for his Lordship to be denied seeing his child for another second.”

Nanny moved forward carefully, gently transferring the infant to Phoebe’s arms, then bowing out.

“Hello, my little darling.” Phoebe mused, looking at the sleeping baby in her arms, then to Monty, who Sibella helped position his arms as Phoebe passed her child over to him.

Tears welled up in Monty’s eyes, feeling the weight of such a fragile, perfect thing in his arms.

“Oh, Phoebe.” He whispered, unable to bring his voice any louder for fear of showing his tears.

“I won’t think any less of you for crying.” Phoebe smiled.

“I will.” Sibella arched an eyebrow at Monty, but laughed nevertheless.

Monty glanced at his wife and lover, then looked back down to his child.

“Say hello to your son.” Phoebe reached over and adjusted the blanket her son was wrapped in, running her fingers over the lace of the blanket.

Monty swallowed hard, tears breaking through his well-constructed barrier and spilling onto his cheeks.

“ _Our_ son. Our precious, perfect son.” Monty corrected through his tears, smiling despite it all.

Phoebe gave a soft laugh that more closely resembled a huff.

“We ought to write to Lady Eugenia, she’s been most anxious since we told her there would be a baby. I’ve no idea how either of you were able to keep her away.”

Monty smiled, taking in the proud appearance of his wife.

“Of course. I’m not sure either, I sent her frequent updates of your health, Sibella sent her news in regard to the nursery and its progress, but I _also_ neglected to tell her of the threats made against you and our child. She’d have come immediately if she’d known someone was trying to kill you and the baby.” He replied.

Their son began to fuss, and Phoebe immediately brought him to her breast, allowing him to feed.

Sibella laughed when Phoebe jumped as the baby latched on, throwing a softer smile at the brunette when she narrowed her eyes.

“He’s a hungry little chap, isn’t he?” Monty remarked, earning eyerolls from Phoebe and Sibella in unison.

Shortly after the baby had fed and Phoebe had wrapped her dressing gown around herself, Nanny returned and took the baby to the nursery to sleep.

Monty kissed Phoebe passionately, then turned to Sibella to do the same.

“You know, there is one slight detail we’ve never discussed with Sibella. Of course, I suspect she’ll accept, but I’d like you to ask her just the same.” Phoebe mused, picking up another sandwich from the tray as Monty poured them all a cup of tea.

Sibella raised an eyebrow, taking her cup and saucer from Monty.

“Of course. Phoebe and I wondered whether you’d like to be our son’s godmother- “, Monty hadn’t been able to finish his question before Sibella flung herself into his arms with a resounding acceptance.

Phoebe curled into her husband and lover’s embrace, snug in the middle.

“I want everyone in this room to promise me that we’ll never keep secrets from each other in future. Keeping secrets has caused so much grief and heartache, not to mention the danger. I want pure honesty from this point forward.” Monty said after a moment of quiet.

“Of course. I’m only sorry I didn’t tell you the truth after the attacks, I knew those brutes were hired men, and I knew who’d hired them, but I allowed my fear to blind me, to create a wall between my brain and my mouth to keep the secrets in, and I regret it bitterly.” Phoebe sighed, looking into her husband’s eyes.

Monty cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her forehead.

“None of that matters now, what’s done is done, and what’s said is said. I only want to keep the three most important people in my life safe, and I can’t do that if I don’t know all the facts.” Monty felt Phoebe bury her head into his shoulder, allowing herself to be supported and rest against his body.

“I quite agree, you’ll hear only truth from me, though now we might talk about the christening. Have either of you talked about a name for your son?” Sibella could hardly contain herself, excited at the prospect of her new role in the family.

Phoebe and Monty laughed.

“We’ve discussed calling the baby Edmund Henry D’ysquith Navarro some weeks ago. Edmund means “fortunate protector”, which we rather liked the sound of, and Henry for Phoebe’s brother. I still like that idea, if Phoebe has no objections.” Monty smiled, glancing at his wife.

Tears gathered behind Phoebe’s eyes, leaking out onto thick eyelashes before dropping onto her lap.

“I think that’s perfect.”

While they might have discussed naming the baby Edmund if it were a male, they hadn’t talked of his middle name being Henry.

Phoebe hadn’t dared to bring it up, thinking Monty wouldn’t like the idea of naming a potential son after a man he murdered to become Earl, no matter how close and fond she had been of her brother.

Sibella smiled at this family moment, feeling included and happy.

From that day onward, Monty, Phoebe, and Sibella went about their lives as blissfully as possible.

Though none of them were quite prepared for Lady Eugenia’s arrival a week later, they all agreed that in her case, they'd take it one day at a time.

As long as they were together, nothing else mattered.


End file.
